Far Frae Ev'ry Strand
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Entry for the NFA Myths and Legends challenge. Dreams drive Tim on a spontaneous trip that ends up changing not only his life but his very essence. Already complete. Will post one chapter per day.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This story was written for the NFA Myths and Legends challenge. It's a very long one and like my previous oneshot entry, it deals with the legends of selkies. ...but it has no relation to that oneshot; so don't be expecting that. :) Two notes: I can't give you the actual link to the website I used for a lot of my research, but it's called Orkneyjar and if you do a search for that and selkies, you should get there if you're interested. Also, while I'm aware that people on Orkney have their own Orcadian dialect, I didn't feel that I could accurately portray it and so I have not made the attempt. If you know the dialect, I apologize for not being able to adequately present it. I've done my best.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own NCIS and I don't own any of the lyrics I've put up. I'm making no money on this story.

* * *

><p><strong>Far Frae Ev'ry Strand<br>**by Enthusiastic Fish

**Chapter 1**

"_I heard a mother lull her bairn,  
><em>_and aye she rocked, and aye she sang.  
><em>_She took so hard upon the verse  
><em>_that the heart within her body rang." _

Tim opened his eyes and sat up in bed, the echoes of an almost-remembered tune fading from his mind. It was the third night in a row he'd dreamed the same dream.

It wasn't that it was frightening or memorable...on the surface. He could only recall snatches of it when he woke up. A woman rocking a child, singing a mournful tune. What was it now? He couldn't remember. It was frustrating, and it was driving him crazy.

He looked at the clock and groaned. Four a.m.!

_You need more sleep than that, Tim. Lay down. Sleep. It's just a dream! Forget about it!_

Determinedly, he lay down on his bed and closed his eyes. Just before he fell asleep, he could have sworn he heard a seagull.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Probie's late," Tony said with unabashed glee as he looked at his watch. "He's going to be in trouble!"

Ziva rolled her eyes. "You are a grown man, are you not, Tony?"

"Last I checked," Tony said with a leer.

"You need not act like an immature child, then."

"Probie's never late."

"Except when he was covering for his sister," Ziva said significantly.

"No, he was late before that...and he just said he couldn't hear his phone. He'll get a glare for sure!"

The elevator dinged open and Tim hurried in.

"Too bad, McGee," Tony said with a smile.

"Too bad, what?"

"You beat the boss in here."

"Why is that bad?" Tim asked.

"Because he is childish," Ziva said. "Why are you late?"

Tim sighed. "Just couldn't sleep last night and when I finally got to sleep, I didn't hear my alarm."

"Who was she, McGee? Someone special?"

"No, Tony. There was no one there. I've sworn off dating. ...but I didn't miss anything?"

"No, lucky for you."

Tim sighed again, this time with relief. "Good. I need something to go right."

"What has been going wrong?"

"Just..." Gibbs appeared. "...nothing."

"McGee, you're late again, you pay for it," Gibbs said. "Grab your gear. Dead Marine out in Anacostia."

Tim hurried with the others, the only acknowledgment of Gibbs' reprimand, the chagrined expression on his face.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ziva looked over at Tim who was apparently hard at work recording the evidence at the scene.

Apparently...but he was humming...just snatches of a tune here and there and she couldn't quite make out a genuine melody. He didn't even seem to realize he was doing it, but he had been off and on since he'd started working.

"McGee?"

The humming stopped and he looked over at her.

"Yeah?"

"What are you humming?"

"Huh?"

"You have been humming."

Tim's face crinkled up at her. "No, I haven't."

Ziva laughed. "Yes, you have. I have heard you. You have been humming the same song since we arrived. What is it?"

Tim started thinking...and even made a little show of it.

"Ziva, I wasn't humming. I think I would have noticed."

"Apparently not. Why are you pretending? I will not tell Tony."

"I'm not pretending. I wasn't humming. You must have been hearing things."

"Perhaps."

Tim looked at her for a few seconds more and then bent back over the scrap of clothing on the ground, photographing it and filling out the forms for its official collection.

...and as soon as he became absorbed in his work again, he started to hum. This time, Ziva pulled out her phone and held it out, recording Tim as he hummed and worked.

"McGee, you are humming again."

"No, I'm not, Ziva," Tim muttered without looking up.

Ziva smiled and put her phone away, planning on showing him later...and listened to him continue to hum softly as he worked.

The day continued uneventfully. They began investigating, trying to put the clues together, trying to figure out what had happened to the Marine.

...and Ziva forgot about the recording she'd made until that night when she plugged her phone in to charge it up.

_I will show him tomorrow,_ she thought and went to bed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_O, cradle row, and cradle go,  
><em>_and aye sleep well, my bairn within;  
><em>_I ken not who thy father is,  
><em>_nor yet the land that he dwells in."_

Tim woke up with tears on his cheeks, not knowing why. The song was there...and it faded once again. He wiped at the tears.

"What is going _on_?" he wondered aloud and looked around his room, half-expecting to see something else. ...but he didn't know what it was. He looked at his clock.

Two-thirty a.m.

Again, he groaned and rolled over. He punched his pillow a few times and tried to get back to sleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Two days in a row," Tony said. "That's not a good precedent to set."

"Perhaps he is still having trouble sleeping," Ziva said.

"Or he's really entertaining someone and doesn't want us to know." Tony picked up his phone and dialed.

"Tony..."

A phone started ringing. ...on Tim's desk.

"Uh-oh. Probie forgot his phone..."

"He never forgets his phone," Ziva said. "I think it is another...limb."

"Well, he forgot it last night."

The elevator doors dinged open and Tim dashed off, looking even more frazzled than he had the day before. He saw his phone on the desk, still ringing and without looking at Tony and Ziva, he ran over and answered it.

"Agent McGee," he gasped out.

"Hello, Agent McGee. This is Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, and I'm wondering what's wrong with you."

Tim turned and glared at Tony as he hung up.

"Well, that's not very nice, Probie. Hanging up without answering."

Tim gave a long-suffering sigh and didn't answer. He just sat down and checked through his emails.

"McGee, are you sure nothing is wrong?" Ziva asked.

"Everything's fine, Ziva," Tim said. "I'm just not sleeping very well."

So he said, but both Tony _and_ Ziva noticed Tim's lack of focus during the day. ...or rather, they noticed that his focus was not on his work. He would kind of drift...and he would start humming again. Every time it was pointed out to him, he would deny it. Even when Ziva played her recording to him, he simply stared at it in surprise. It was apparently completely unconscious on his part. ...and if he knew what the song was, he wasn't sharing.

After Tim left that evening, Tony and Ziva talked about his strange behavior.

"Maybe he's started trying to write songs instead of books," Tony suggested. "We'll have to start watching out for something like 'The Ballad of L. J. Tibbs'!"

"This is not funny, Tony," Ziva said. "It is strange."

"Yeah, but Probie's kind of strange," Tony said, but then relented. "If he's like this tomorrow, we'll pester him."

Ziva smiled. "Very well. I will wait until tomorrow."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_And up then spake a grey selchie  
><em>_as aye he woke her from her sleep,  
><em>_I'll tell where thy bairn's father is:  
><em>_he's sittin' close by thy bed feet."_

Tim's eyes opened. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, the echoes of the song dying in his mind...but somewhere, an idea had begun to germinate. It wasn't conscious yet, but it started to guide his actions as he lay there, not trying to sleep, gripped in the power of something he didn't understand.

After another hour of no sleep, he reached over and picked up his phone. He dialed a number.

"_McGees' residence. Who's died?"_ came Sam's sleepy voice.

"Dad. It's Tim."

"_Tim? What's wrong?"_

"I don't know."

"_Tim...you sound really strange."_

"Something...is different. I don't know what it is."

"_Tell me."_

Tim didn't move from his supine position on his bed.

"I've been having dreams for the last week. I wake up and I can't remember them...but I can't sleep after I have them. ...and Ziva says I've been humming, but I don't what the song is. I can't...explain it, Dad. There's something going on, but I don't know."

"_Have you tried talking to someone about it?"_

"I don't know what I'd tell them. I can't even say better now...something about the sea."

There was a long silence.

"_Maybe you need a vacation, Tim. Maybe your mind is trying to tell you to take it easy for a while. It's been forever since you took any time off."_

"Yeah...but I've never had anything like this before."

"_A lot has happened to you in the last little while. Maybe you just can't put it aside anymore."_

Tim sighed.

"_Hey, Tim. If it's bothering you...you need to try _something_. You can't just sit around and hope it'll go away."_

"I know. It's like a song I can't get out of my head...but I can't remember the lyrics."

"_You'll figure it out, Tim. Just keep us in on it. Okay? Whatever you decide to do."_

"I will. Sorry for waking you up, Dad."

"_Part and parcel of being a parent."_

"Thanks."

"_Good night."_

Tim hung up and went back to staring at the ceiling.

He didn't fall asleep until nearly dawn.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Day three," Tony said. "He's late."

"This is not like McGee," Ziva said.

"Nope. You're right. We'll bug him when he gets in."

Gibbs' desk phone began ringing. He appeared from nowhere, glared at Tim's empty desk and answered.

"Gibbs."

There was a pause.

"Wait, McGee. What?"

Another pause and his eyebrows rose.

"You're going where? McGee, that's..." He broke off and then looked at the phone.

"What is it, Gibbs?" Ziva asked.

"McGee is taking a vacation. To Orkney."

"Where?" Tony asked.

"Orkney."

"Where's that?" He looked at Ziva who shook her head.

"I have not been there."

"Sounds...kind of British, though, doesn't it?" Tony asked.

"Find out," Gibbs ordered. He headed for the elevator.

"Boss, where are you going?"

"To find out what's up with McGee!"

The elevator doors closed. Tony looked at Ziva for a moment and then did a search.

"Orkney...a group of islands off the northern coast of Scotland. Why is McGee going there?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim finished packing his bag and headed for the door. Jethro was already at the kennel. He opened the door and almost ran headlong into Gibbs...who had his gun out and ready for...something.

"Boss...I just talked to you on the phone."

"Yeah...and sounded crazy, McGee. What's going on?"

Tim forced himself to act nonchalant even while everything inside him was screaming for him to leave.

"I told you on the phone. I need a vacation. I'm going to Orkney. I have a flight to catch."

"You're leaving right now?"

"Yeah."

"When did you book your ticket?"

Tim looked at his watch. "A few hours ago."

"McGee, what's up with you?"

"I told you...I need a vacation."

"You can't just decide to go whenever you want."

"Yes, I can. I have."

"McGee..."

Tim stepped forward, forcing Gibbs to step back as he came out into the hall and locked his door behind him.

"If there's something wrong, you can tell me."

"There's nothing wrong. No one is in danger. I'm not under duress. I know what you're thinking, Boss, and it's not true. I'm going to Orkney. If...If my job hangs on this..."

"Yeah?"

Tim looked him in the eye. "Then you'll have to fire me."

"McGee, are you listening to yourself?"

"Yes. I know I sound crazy. That's why I have to go."

He brushed by Gibbs and headed down the stairs. He heard Gibbs following him, but he didn't stop. There was the taxi waiting for him by the curb. He waved to the driver to let him know he was coming. Then, he turned back to Gibbs.

"Boss...I can't explain this. I don't know how to explain it. I just need to do this. Now. Not later. Not after I've filled out the appropriate forms. Now."

Gibbs held his gaze for a few seconds.

"Tell me why you need this, McGee, and I'll make sure you have a job when you come back."

Tim smiled a little.

"Maybe you won't if I tell you."

"Tell me."

"I haven't been sleeping much at night. I've been having dreams. I can't tell you what they are, but this morning, I decided I had to go to Orkney. So I'm going. It doesn't make sense, but it's the truth."

Gibbs stared at him for a few seconds more.

"Have a safe trip. ...and check in."

Tim blinked. He'd expected another tirade, or even to be fired.

"I will, Boss." Then, he turned and got into the taxi and headed for the airport.

"_I am a man upon the land;  
><em>_I am a selchie on the sea,  
><em>_and when I'm far frae ev'ry strand,  
><em>_my dwelling is in Sule Skerry."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Tim slept all the way across the Atlantic Ocean, waking up only when the announcements began to prepare people for landing in Heathrow. There was a moment when he wondered where he was and then why he was on a plane.

...but then, he began to remember...the insanity that had driven him to this trip.

"Final destination?"

"Huh?" Tim asked blearily.

"I asked if this was your final destination."

Tim blinked a few times and looked over at his seat companion.

"Oh...no. It's not. Got a bit further to go."

"Where you heading?"

"Orkney."

"Not really the time of year for tourists."

"Kind of spur-of-the-moment."

"I wish I had time for things like that."

Tim smiled ruefully. He knew he didn't really have time.

"Sometimes, it's just what has to be done."

"Certainly. I understand. I hope you enjoy your trip. I've been to Orkney myself. It's quite beautiful. Some of the smaller skerries are uninhabited but worth seeing all the same."

"Skerries?"

"Small islands."

"Oh. Is that a different language?"

"Different dialect, but you'll be able to understand them...once you get used to it."

Tim smiled and then looked out the window and waited for landing.

In Heathrow, he searched for the gate to Edinburgh, waited there and boarded. The flight to Edinburgh was short...and the flight to Kirkwall wasn't much longer. By the time he arrived in Kirkwall, he was wiped out again, having traveled or been sitting around in airports for nearly a day straight. He got his bag and then searched for the ferry that would take him to Westray, where he'd booked a room in a bed and breakfast. He got directions, almost without asking for them. Perhaps his weariness showed on his face.

He found that he barely understood the words being said...but it was almost like listening to a song from another world. He was drifting along on the wings of that cadence until he reached the B&B and checked in.

"Timothy McGee," he said. "I have a reservation for the week."

"Of course, Mr. McGee. Your room is ready. Just down the hall there."

"Thanks." Tim got his key and he tried to smile, but his muscles felt too weak to fight against gravity. So he nodded his thanks and went into his room. He paused only long enough to take off his shoes. Then, he nearly fell onto the nice clean bed and fell asleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The phone rang and Gibbs answered it. It was pretty early in the morning. That meant it was either a new case or else Tim had forgotten the time difference.

"Gibbs."

"_Hi, Boss."_

"You made it?"

"_Yeah."_

"Good."

"_It's...really pretty here."_

"Why are you there, McGee?"

"_Haven't...quite figured that part out yet, Boss."_ There was a hesitant laugh. _"I think I shocked my dad when I called him this morning and told him where I was."_

"McGee..."

"_When I know...I'll tell you, Boss. But..."_ Tim's voice trailed off.

"McGee!"

"_I hear something, Boss. I'll talk to you later."_

Then, Tim hung up, even though Gibbs was nearly shouting at him. Was this better or worse? Tim hadn't seemed frightened by whatever he'd heard, but there was something going on, something that he didn't understand.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_And foster well my wee young son,  
><em>_aye for a twal'month and a day,  
><em>_and when that twal'month's fairly done,  
><em>_I'll come and pay the nourice fee."_

Tim heard the lilting voice singing. He barely understood the words, but the tune... That tune. He looked out the window and saw a woman singing as she worked in a small garden. It was early yet in the season for things to be growing, but she seemed to be preparing the soil for the coming of spring and summer. He quickly walked outside.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said.

She looked up, startled.

"Oh, good morning to you. I was beginning to fear you'd died in your bed."

Tim laughed. "No, but I felt like it. What time is it?"

"Near ten. It's greyan up, but looks like the day won't be bad."

Tim looked around. All he noticed was a cool breeze.

"Greyan?"

The woman smiled. "Sorry. We here in Orkney have words for nearly every kind of weather...because we get it all. Greyan is...just a light breeze getting a bit stronger. You'll find that the wind never stops here."

"That's all right with me. Could I ask you a question?"

"Course."

"What were you singing?"

"Did I disturb you?"

"No. No, it's just...it...sounded...very nice," Tim said, tripping over trying to explain the reason for his interest.

"Just an old tune."

"What is it?"

"'The Great Selkie o' Suleskerry'." She paused. "You look as though you could use something to eat."

"It's way past breakfast, though. The brochure said..."

"No matter. Time differences and all." She led him inside, weakly protesting, and to the dining room. She pointed to a chair, a twinkle in her eye. "Sit down and I'll bring something out to you."

Tim smiled and sat at one of the empty tables. With a measure of chagrine, he realized that he didn't remember her name.

_I must have really been out of it yesterday._

When she came into the room, he smile at the full tray.

"You didn't need to..."

"Hush. You look like you need feeding. A gussell would blow you right into the sea."

"I'm all muscle," Tim said with a grin but the food did look good and he was hungry. Airport food was too expensive and what little he'd got on the plane had been disappointing.

"I'm sure you are."

"Uh...I feel bad about this, but I can't remember your name."

She smiled. "Isobel Munro. My husband, Patrick, and I run this place...well, he does when he's in from the sea. He gives tours."

"Oh. Thanks."

"Just give me a wave when you're done. I'll come in to clean up."

"Thank you."

"Oh, don't worry about it. If you thank me again, I'll let you have all the Orcadian you can stand."

Tim laughed at the threat and turned to the tray.

When he finished eating, he felt almost human again, and ready to look around this place he'd come to so suddenly. A quick shower and change of clothes and he was out the door. He gave a wave to Isobel as he walked back toward the harbor in Pierowall. ...but that led him eastward...and that wasn't where he felt pulled to go. Still, he went to the pier anyway and began looking at the boats. There weren't very many. He supposed it wasn't the right time of year...and probably lots of them were already out...it was nearly noon.

"You the one at Munros'?"

Tim turned and saw a young man, perhaps twenty years old, leaning on a pole, looking at him avidly.

"Yeah."

There was an intense look in his eyes, his dark, dark eyes. He had dark hair as well.

"I'd heard someone had come last night."

"That's me."

The man looked him up and down.

"Timothy McGee, I heard?"

"Yes." Tim began to feel uncomfortable under the gaze...which was a much older gaze than twenty years.

"Scottish, then?"

"American."

"It's a Scottish surname."

"Maybe so, but my family's been in the U.S. for a few generations now."

"All your family?"

"I don't know. I haven't...done much genealogy. Who are you?"

There was a long pause and then the man smiled. "Erlend. You can get a boat from here, you know. If you know how to sail."

"I'm afraid I'm not good with boats."

"Really? Come here tomorrow, and you can see."

The man turned and walked away, whistling.

...whistling a tune Tim knew.

The Great Selkie o'Suleskerry.

"Hey! Wait!" Tim hurried after him, but Erlend turned a corner and when Tim reached it, he was gone.

Tim looked around, a little weirded out by the strange conversation.

"Maybe this is how they greet strangers here," Tim mused to himself and then tried to push the conversation out of his mind.

He spent the day wandering the island, but he felt compelled to go to the west side of the island. He walked all the way to the lighthouse on Noup Head at the northwest corner of Westray. The view was spectacular...and the wind constant, as Isobel had said. It never stopped, but Tim found it bracing. He didn't run into many people. It wasn't really tourist season, and his interests were toward solitary things.

...but he felt as though he had to make sure he bought things for his friends and family...to make up for the weirdness that had colored his taking the trip in the first place. So after taking some pictures of the lighthouse, he made the trek back to Pierowall and bought some souvenirs. He got some wrist warmers for Abby, a scarf for Ziva, a snood for his mom and Sarah...mostly because he liked the name of them. Then, he looked around some more and found mittens and hats for Gibbs and Tony. As he looked through a local shop, he stopped and stared at some felt stuffed animals...seals. He picked one up and looked at it. ...but he put it down and bought slipper boots for his dad, Ducky and Jimmy, grinning at the thought of how they'd look.

Much poorer, he headed back to the B&B as the sun headed for the horizon.

When he reached his room, he deposited his new purchases on the bed and then looked out the window...to the west.

He walked out to the back of the house and stared at the sun as it set. It was beautiful, but he couldn't get rid of the feeling that he needed to go further.

"Someone walking over your grave?"

Tim looked back over his shoulder and saw Isobel standing in the doorway.

"No. Why?"

"You looked far too pensive for someone on a vacation."

"Yeah...well..." Tim shrugged. "Hey, Isobel?"

"Yes?"

"Would you mind singing that song for me?"

"What song?"

"The selkie song...the one I heard you singing this morning?"

Isobel colored slightly. "Oh, there are recordings much better than I can sing."

"But you know the song. I don't know it at all. You sounded very nice this morning. It was beautiful. It...It fit."

Isobel smiled. "You're just trying to flatter me."

Tim grinned. "Is it working?"

She smiled and closed her eyes. Right there, without any accompaniment, she started to sing. Tim listened, entranced. It was like he was hearing something he'd heard in another life.

The sun set below the horizon as Isobel finished the final stanza.

"_And thou will get a hunter good,  
><em>_and a richt fine hunter I'm sure he'll be;  
><em>_and the first ae shot that e'er he shoots  
><em>_will kill baith my young son and me."_

She stopped singing and looked at him.

"That's the end?" Tim asked.

"Well, there's another version that has extra verses."

"How does that one end?"

"Not much better."

"What is it?"

"_Alas, alas this woeful fate  
><em>_This weary fate that's been laid for me.'  
><em>_And once or twice she sobbed and sighed,  
><em>_An' her tender heart did brak' in three._"

Tim was silent for a few seconds.

"No, that's not very happy."

"Most of the selkie tales aren't. Love between a selkie and human being never ends well...in the stories."

"But you do have a lovely voice."

"Thank you. Now, there was a reason I came out here."

"What?"

"You never mentioned whether or not you wanted to pay the extra for dinners."

"Oh...I hadn't really thought about it. ...uh...it's not too late to say I would?"

"Not at all. We only have a couple of people staying here at the moment besides you. Dinner will be in about an hour."

"Thanks."

"If you decide you'll be gone in the dinner hour, just let me know and I won't charge you on that day."

"Okay."

Isobel withdrew back into the house and Tim turned back to the western horizon. The sun was gone. Only the glow remained, but Tim still felt that...that urge to go.

_Look, I'm here. That's it. Where else can I go? Mainland is the furthest west, and that didn't feel right either! I'm here. That should be enough._

His silent haranguing of that strange compulsion didn't seem to help. A sharp gust of wind brought him out of his contemplation and he went inside.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I'm worried about him, Ducky," Gibbs said. "He's been strange for a few days and then this."

Ducky shook his head. "I can't tell you anything, Jethro. I haven't spoken to him. It does sound strange, but Timothy would hardly be the first person to have a mid-life crisis or a moment of spontaneity."

"It wasn't either of those. _He_ knew it was strange."

"Perhaps...Timothy was simply worn out and needed a break. Again, he would not the first."

"I don't think..."

Ducky laughed. "Jethro, if you're so worried, you could call him yourself."

"Not now. It'd be late over there."

"In that case, you must wait."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was late...or early, depending on your point of view. Isobel wasn't sure what had awakened her. Patrick sometimes had to go down to the pier at odd hours...but no, he was sleeping soundly beside her. She sat up and looked around the quiet room.

Then, she heard it again. A low male voice. Quietly, she got out of bed and snuck into the hallway.

...just in time to see the back door open and someone step outside. That was the source of the voice...singing.

She shivered as the chilly air blew into the room. Quickly, she went to the door, just in time to see her most recent customer standing out on the back lawn...in his pajamas, singing...but the song was...

"_I am a man upon the land;  
><em>_I am a selchie on the sea,  
><em>_and when I'm far frae ev'ry strand,  
><em>_my dwelling is in Sule Skerry."_

"You said you didn't know the song," she said quietly.

There was no response. Surprised, she stepped out onto the back lawn.

"Mr. McGee? Timothy?"

No response. She walked over beside him. His eyes were open, but there was no comprehension in them. He was asleep, then. She looked up at the moon and saw the broch. Bad weather coming in. Gently, she took Tim by the arm and directed him back inside. He followed docilely as a babe.

"You're lucky I don't believe in the old fairytales, Mr. McGee," she whispered.

No response from the strange man. As she slowly walked him back to his room, he would occasionally start singing again, little snippets of the tune. Only once did he sing a full verse.

"_Upon the skerry is thy son;  
><em>_upon the skerry lieth he.  
><em>_Sin thou would see thine ain young son,  
><em>_now is the time tae speak wi' he." _

That was different from the version she'd sung to him. She'd heard it herself, but it wasn't in the popular version. Where had he heard those lyrics if he didn't know the song at all?

She could ask him in the morning, she decided and helped him to his bed. He lay down and his eyes closed, but for a few seconds, he hummed the tune.

A strange man, Isobel decided, but he seemed harmless enough. She closed the door and went back to bed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Tim woke up the next morning with the song echoing in his head. He had thought that knowing the song would banish it from his sleep. No such luck. It was louder than ever...and now, it wasn't fading. He sat up in bed and looked out. It wasn't very late yet. He'd at least be getting breakfast at a normal hour. ...strange how quickly he'd adjusted to the time difference.

He took a shower and pulled on his clothes, wondering what this new day would bring. For some reason that thought heralded a feeling almost of dread, not anticipation.

As he waited for the breakfast hour to begin, Tim sat on his bed and looked through the brochures he'd taken from the airport. There were a lot of things to see in the Orkney Islands. It was funny how little he'd known about them before this.

"I'll go to Mainland today," he said aloud, trying to make his decision sound firm, not irresolute as he felt. What he _wanted_ was to find Erlend again and go sailing.

_No, I don't. I get seasick. I don't want to go sailing! The ferry's bad enough! Besides, he was really strange. I don't want to go off somewhere with him._

Nevertheless, it took great effort to convince himself that he was going to take the ferry to Kirkwall. He'd bought a ticket the day before. He was going to use it. After a stern talking to, Tim went to the dining room. Isobel was there, just setting out the dishes.

"Good morning, Mr. McGee."

"Good morning," Tim said with a smile. "Hey, could I ask you something?"

"Only if I can ask you something in return."

"Okay."

"Go ahead."

"Is it that strange that I'm here?"

"What do you mean?"

"A guy down on the pier yesterday...he knew who I was and where I was staying, said he'd heard about me. He was kind of strange."

"Well, Pierowall isn't very big. This isn't the height of the tourist season. I suppose people could have noticed you coming. Who was he?"

"Younger than me. Maybe twenty. Dark hair. Dark eyes. His name was Erlend."

Isobel shook her head. "Doesn't sound familiar to me. He could be from one of the other islands, just on shore for a day or two."

Tim felt that couldn't be right, but he nodded. "What was _your_ question?"

Isobel smiled and set out a basket of oat cakes.

"Do you often walk in your sleep, Mr. McGee?"

"What?"

"Last night, you walked out to the back lawn and sang."

Tim blushed bright red. "No...I don't think I've ever walked in my sleep. I'm certain someone would have told me if I'd sung before. I'm sorry."

"Oh, no need. You can't control your actions when you're not awake. It merely surprised me."

"Yeah, I'm sorry."

"You were singing the same song I sang for you. You have an ear for music?"

"Not really. I mean, I like listening to music, but...but I don't really sing myself."

Isobel looked at him speculatively...as if she were deciding whether or not he was dissembling.

"Coffee is about ready. Have an oat cake. Orkney specialty."

Tim had an oat cake as ordered. It was good, but his mind wasn't really on the food. He thought about what Isobel had told him. How embarrassing! ...but he hadn't done that back in DC...had he? If he had...he'd have ended up on the fire escape or in the hall. Someone would have woken him up or he'd have found himself in the hall. He'd never done that.

When Isobel brought out the rest of the breakfast, Tim smiled his thanks but didn't make any conversation. He ate and browsed through the brochure of things to see on Mainland. There was a lot. Too much to do in one day, Tim decided, but he had time to kill. His flight back home wasn't until next week.

"What am I doing here?" he said aloud and sighed.

There was no answer; so he left the little inn and headed for the pier to catch his ferry.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim spent the day taking pictures and wandering around Mainland. He looked at a number of Neolithic sites and cliffsides. It was all wonderful. Any other time he would have been having the time of his life seeing these things. ...but that urge, that desire to go...westward. It was always there. He had thought he'd caught a glimpse of Erlend on the pier as he boarded the ferry, but when he'd looked back...no one.

One place that had attracted his attention, and briefly distracted him from the annoying compulsion, was the Italian Chapel. He went to St. Mary's on the south part of Mainland and went to the tiny island of Lamb Holm. The Italian Chapel, built by Italian POWs during World War II, was amazing. As he stepped inside, Tim was stunned to see the beauty and detail the prisoners had created out of their surroundings. Such devotion... It well deserved to be preserved.

He took more pictures there and then began drifting back toward Kirkwall. He had to be there by 5:30 to catch the ferry back to Westray, but then, as he was walking around the city, he heard some people talking and they told him about a local artist who made beautiful jewelry and had a workshop nearby. Interested, he went to Tankerness, east of Kirkwall.

When he looked around the giftshop, it was like stepping into the ocean. The blues and greens of the sea were everywhere. The styles were inspired by the sea. Tim was almost in a daze by it all...and somehow, he found himself buying a ring...for himself with the dark blue of the sea and the shapes of the waves. It cost too much. He wasn't really a ring person...but he bought it anyway and then had to run to catch the ferry.

Seated on a bench alone...outside, Tim contemplated his day. He felt sick from the ferry's rocking...which was why he was sitting outside even though it was cold. A few of the locals had smiled at his discomfort but no one made fun of him to his face at least.

To distract himself from his misery, he decided to call home.

"_McGees."_

"Hi, Dad. What's with you answering the phone all the time lately?" Tim asked, trying to sound normal.

"_Tim! Just lucky, I guess. How's Orkney?"_

"It's fine. You'll like the souvenir I bought for you," Tim said and smiled, but his heart wasn't in it...and it was painfully obvious.

"_What's going on, Tim?"_

"I don't know, Dad. I'm...starting to think that I made a mistake in coming here. Things aren't getting better. They're getting worse."

"_Worse, how?"_

"The...owner of the bed and breakfast I'm staying at...she said she found me early this morning out in backyard...singing in my sleep."

"_Tim, that's not..."_

Tim cut him off. "...Dad, I was singing a song I don't even know! ...and I feel so...so strange. Something...it's just not right."

"_Maybe you should come home, then."_

"I can't. My flight isn't until next week...and I don't want to tell you how much I paid for the ticket."

"_Tim, if there's something as wrong as you think it is, then the money isn't an issue."_

"I can't leave," Tim confessed. "I...I _want_ to, but I can't. Dad...it's...it's so...strange. I can't describe how I feel, but I don't like it. It's wrong. Something is wrong."

"_Okay. Tim, I'd be lying if I didn't say that you're kind of scaring me right now, but here's what I want you to do. Promise me that you will call home every day until your flight back. Every day. I don't care what time it is when you call, but you call us and let us know that you're all right. Promise?"_

"I promise," Tim said. "I'll call. ...am I going crazy?"

"_Aristotle said that 'no excellent soul is exempt from a mixture of madness.'"_

"Not very comforting, Dad."

"'_There is no great genius without a touch of madness.' Seneca."_

"Still not comforting."

"_Then, you try it."_

"'And Something's odd - within -  
>That person that I was -<br>And this One - do not feel the same -  
>Could it be Madness - this?' Emily Dickinson."<p>

"_I can't say what's wrong, Tim. Apparently, you can't either. Hamlet said it himself. 'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.' If you really feel that you can't leave, then perhaps there really is a reason...one that you don't know and I don't know. Just take it day by day until you come home. Then...come to Ohio instead of Orkney and let us see if we can help."_

"Okay." In reality, Tim felt no better, but there really was nothing his dad could do, and it wouldn't do any good to harp on that. He said good-bye and hung up. He stared out across the sea as the sun began to set and, this time, felt a strong desire to run to the crew and force them to turn the ship westward. _That_ urge he firmly quashed. No way was he going that insane. ...but he could still use some distraction until he got back on solid ground again.

He dialed Gibbs' number, deciding that he wasn't going to talk about how he felt he was going crazy, just to let him know everything was okay. Right. Yes.

"_Gibbs."_

"Hey, Boss. It's me."

"_Enjoying yourself?"_

"Depends."

"_On what?"_

"I'm seeing some amazing things."

"_But?"_

Tim tried think about just what to say that would be honest but wouldn't worry Gibbs. Then, he scoffed. Worry Gibbs. Right. It would take more than some strange behavior from Tim McGee to worry Gibbs.

"_McGee?"_

"But...I really can't...believe I'm actually here, that I actually did this."

"_Figured out why yet?"_

"No."

"_McGee...what's going on?"_

Tim laughed. "I wish I knew. I really don't."

"_When are you coming back?"_

"Next week. I'm just seeing the sights...don't much like having to take a ferry to get between the islands."

There was a pause and then a different voice came on the line.

"_Good afternoon, Timothy! I hear you're in my old stomping grounds!"_

"You're from Orkney?"

"_Well, no, but Scotland!"_

"Yeah, I am."

"_I also hear that you've not been...acting like yourself."_

"No. Definitely not."

"_Care to explain?"_

"If I had words for it, Ducky. I would...but I don't. There's...just something going on that I can't explain."

"_Such as?"_

"Don't tell Gibbs."

"_Whyever not, lad?"_

"He'll...think I'm more crazy than he probably already does."

"_I think you're doing him a disservice."_

"I felt like I had to come here and since I've been here, I've felt the same...only worse, and it's not getting better and I can't leave and..."

"_Can't leave?"_

"Because...this is...where I have to be...only it's not...but I haven't figured out just where that is yet. Ducky...I might really be going nuts!"

"_If you think you are, then you're not."_

"Huh?"

"_Crazy people don't often know they're crazy. It's the sane ones who worry about it."_

"Right."

"_Just keep in touch with people and let us keep tabs on you."_

"You and my parents. ...hey, what should I see while I'm here? I was all over the Mainland today. I went all over Westray yesterday. I still have a few more days to kill."

"_Well, why don't you go to Sanday? It has some very relaxing beaches as well as some amazing archaeological sites."_

"Okay. I'll put that on my list." Tim looked up. "Oh, we're just getting back to Westray now. I'll talk to you later, Ducky. Bye."

Tim hung up and sighed. That call had also not helped him feel any better. As he got off the ferry, blessed being back on dry land, and headed for the inn, Tim looked westward. It was still calling him. He just wished he knew why.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Well, Duck?"

Ducky handed Gibbs his phone. "I don't know, Jethro. Timothy is very worried about something but I believe him when he says he doesn't know what exactly is going on. He's in touch with his family, though, and that's a good thing. When he comes back...perhaps someone should suggest that he...talk to a professional. These things that are happening are not normal...but he won't be coming back early."

"Why not?"

"He feels as though he has to stay."

"Did he say why?"

"Only that he couldn't explain and that there was somewhere else he needed to go."

"I'm worried about him, Ducky."

"As am I, Jethro. As am I."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_I am a man upon the land;  
><em>_I am a selchie on the sea,  
><em>_and when I'm far frae ev'ry strand,  
><em>_my dwelling is in Sule Skerry."_

"_And foster well my wee young son,  
><em>_aye for a twal'month and a day,  
><em>_and when that twal'month's fairly done,  
><em>_I'll come and pay the nourice fee." _

The storm came up suddenly. That wasn't strange. Storms did that around Orkney. ...but this was no ordinary storm.

...and the back door to Munros' was open wide.

All night long.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Isobel awakened the next morning colder than usual. She got up, knotting a robe around her. Quickly, she headed out of her bedroom. Patrick was already up, of course. That was normal, but had he forgotten to close the door?

No. It was closed now...but it had clearly been open for a long period of time. Patrick was mopping up the water that had obviously blown inside. The storm still raged outside. It was a bad one.

"What happened, Patrick?"

"I don't know. It was open when I came out."

"It was closed last night. I locked it myself."

"I know."

"Oh, no."

Isobel ran and looked out onto the back lawn. There was no one there.

"What's wrong, Isobel?"

"Maybe nothing." She hurried back to the room assigned to Tim.

The door was open.

The room was empty...of people, at least. All of Tim's things were still there, but not Tim himself.

"What is it, Isobel?"

"Mr. McGee...remember how I told you he walked in his sleep?"

"Yes."

"He's gone...but taken nothing with him!"

Patrick came and stood by her. It was true.

Tim was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_The night before..._

To anyone who had watched the scene, it would have been strange but not much more than that. ...unless they looked closely.

As the storm intensified, a man began walking down the road, toward the pier. As he walked, he sang softly, almost too softly to be heard above the wind...and he was not dressed for a spring storm. No coat. No shoes. Just sweats and a t-shirt. Any normal human being would have been cold, but this man showed no sign of discomfort. In fact, he showed no sign of anything beyond a purposeful progress to a boat which was being tossed to and fro in the wild winds.

The same man who had been so unsettled by the mere rocking of a boat on a calm sea showed no distress as he walked down to the boat. He climbed aboard and then sank to the deck.

The other man on the boat smiled and set the boat out into the storm. He knew that there would be no danger. He had summoned the storm himself. It kept the curious out of his business. Expertly, he moved the boat around Westray and out into the open sea, reveling in the power of the storm he had called.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

A wave crashed over Tim's face and woke him up, sputtering and coughing. Before he could quite get a look around, he was tossed against something hard.

"What's going on? Where am..." The familiar nausea hit him like a ton of bricks and he knew _exactly_ where he was...more or less. Gagging, he got to his knees and vomited over the side of the boat...and then had to hang on tightly to a rope as another wave crashed over the side.

"Hello?" he called out. "Is anyone here?"

Had he taken this boat and sailed it in his sleep?

Then, behind him, he sensed a presence. Shivering, he turned around.

"You! ...Erlend?"

The man smiled, but Tim didn't think he'd ever seen a smile less friendly...less...human.

"You..."

"...brought you here, yes."

"Why? _How_?"

"You don't feel it," Erlend said, his mouth curling in a sneer. "You...human. The sea is not in you."

Another wave and the little boat tilted alarmingly.

"Who's steering the boat?" Tim asked.

"No one."

"Where are we?"

"The sea. We're in the sea. What more matters than that?"

"If we capsize...I think it would matter to you as much as to me."

"So you think...but you know nothing. You are as deaf to the call as any man. Stay here, human. Stay here and drown!"

Then, Erlend turned and picked up what looked like a thick gray tarp. He pulled it over himself...

...and Tim knew that he must have gone utterly insane. Erlend was no longer standing there. Instead, there was a seal, a large gray seal that flopped over the side, leaving Tim alone.

For a moment, Tim just stood there, a storm raging around him, the boat filling with water...and he couldn't move. He had just seen a man change into a seal. Either _he_ had gone crazy or the whole world had. Then, another wave of salt water dashed him to the deck and shook Tim out of his shock. Reeling, he hurried to the wheel and tried to do...something, but he didn't know what to do. The little he knew about sailing did not involve trying to steer a sinking ship. ...and it was definitely sinking.

In desperation, Tim looked around. All he could see was sea and rain and waves.

...until, off in the distance, a light.

A light! That was _something_. ...but could he get to that light? So far as he could see, there were no life jackets on this boat. There was no way to keep himself afloat...and besides that, he was _freezing_. For the first time, he realized that he was wearing only his pajamas. No wonder he was cold.

A large wave hit the broad side of the boat and it tipped...and tipped...almost in slow motion, Tim watched the water come rushing at him.

Then, he was in the water, the mast only narrowly missing his head. Feeling he had no other choice, he searched for that distant light and began to swim.

He swam and felt his body starting to grow sluggish in the cold water.

Another wave plunged him under the water and he didn't think he'd make it to the surface again. It seemed too hard, the light too far away. He wasn't going to make it.

Then...he felt something beneath him, boosting him up out of the water.

A seal...but not the same one as had been Erlend. Tim didn't know how he was sure of that, but he was. This was a different seal. The markings were different.

The seal didn't turn into a human being, but she (she? Yes, Tim was sure this was a female, although again, he didn't know why he was sure) gave him just enough lift to keep him going. Then, it felt as though he was flying. A wave picked him up and seemed to throw him out of the sea.

...and onto the hard, unforgiving rocks. Tim hit them and knew no more.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You were supposed to bring him here, not leave him to drown!"

"He has lost it. There is nothing of the sea in his blood. The line is lost! That is a _man_. He is not worth the time spent."

"We knew he was a man from the first. We did not expect more."

"There is nothing of worth in this man."

"And yet he is the one who heard the call. He is the one who dreamed the story. He is the one. The only one. If the line is to be saved, he is the one who will save it!"

"Perhaps the line should die. He grew sick on the boat! He is weak!"

"And yet he has survived."

"You helped him."

"Only so that he could continue trying. I could not have saved him were he too weak to swim."

"He does not deserve to be here."

"He did not deserve what you did to him. Even if you had decided he was not worthy..."

"He is _not_!"

"...even if that is the case, he has done nothing to deserve death. You had no right to call the storm!"

"The storm would have come whether I called it or not."

"This storm is not of nature. It is a storm of vengeance, and what was done by his ancestors generations ago is not his fault!"

"You like him."

"I admire his persistence."

"You want him."

"I want to save the line that was lost."

"I will tell what happened."

"Mind that you tell all of it. I will tell my view and my word means more than yours."

A seal returned to the sea. A woman knelt down beside the unconscious, shivering figure. He would not survive the night without help. He would freeze.

Then, there were mumbled sounds and the man's eyes opened slightly. The woman smiled.

Only one word was spoken that she could understand. Even that one word was slurred and heavy.

"Where..."

Gently, she brushed the wet strands of hair away from the scratched and bruised face.

"Welcome to Sule Skerry."

His eyes closed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

There was a long argument, although none of the participants spoke. ...of course, all the participants were currently seals. For the moment. Then, one broke away from the group and moved back into the stormy sea. Others followed him. Another headed away from the main group, across the island to where the man lay unconscious and shaking on the rocks.

Four shed their skins and carefully stowed them beneath a protecting rock. The men and the woman picked up the injured man and carried him to the relative shelter of the lighthouse. The woman walked to the door of the lighthouse and tried to open it. When she failed, she gestured to one of the men and they managed to brake the door in. They grabbed some of the old supplies left behind when the lighthouse had been automated nearly thirty years before, including a tarp and some old blankets. Then, taking up their skins again, they crowded around the man, using the tarp to protect him from the rain and wind and their bodies to give him warmth. Only the woman did not don her skin. She curled up close beside him, using her body heat to warm him up more quickly.

Other seals joined them and the only danger was that they might be too enthusiastic in giving their aid.

It was a long night, but the human survived it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

When she felt the sun, she sat up, pushing the slumbering seals away and smiling at their grumbling expressions. She looked at her companion and her smile vanished. He did not look well. He was warmer but pale, and his injuries, although not severe, did look serious.

A man joined her and also looked concerned. He ran to the lighthouse and searched inside for anything else that might be of use. He came up with a kerosene lamp, but without wood...

He smiled. First, he directed others to search for driftwood and then he and two other men walked around the various buildings and began cannibalizing them for pieces of wood. Sule Skerry had no trees.

The wind was cold even though the storm had quickly blown itself out. The sun felt nice, but it wouldn't be enough for the injured human. Irritation colored that thought. There had been no reason to complicate an already-complicated situation.

The human began to shiver again, feeling the loss of the warm bodies around him. His eyes opened briefly and she smiled at the confused green orbs.

"Do not worry. You are safe on Sule Skerry."

The words clearly did as they should have done and he began to sing, not clearly at all. She couldn't understand the words, but she didn't need to. She knew the song. Gently, she touched his lips, feeling them vibrate as he tried to sing. With a smile, she hushed him and then sang herself...the same song.

"_I heard a mother lull her bairn,  
><em>_and aye she rocked, and aye she sang.  
><em>_She took so hard upon the verse  
><em>_that the heart within her body rang." _

The green eyes fastened on her face.

"Heard...y-y-you...b-b-before..."

"Yes, I know."

"H-H-H-How...don't...un..erstand..."

"Explanations will have to wait until later. You would not understand in your current state."

From the expression in his eyes, he didn't seem to have understood what she'd just said.

"Just rest for now. That is all you need to do."

He began to shiver and closed his eyes.

"He will survive?"

She looked up.

"I believe he will. He does not feel it yet, but the sea _is_ in him."

"He was wrong?"

"Of course. He wanted more than could ever have been possible. He would always have been disappointed. I want only what can be...and I may get more."

"There is a fire in the lighthouse."

She looked over and saw the smoke and laughed.

"The wood was damp," he said with some chagrine.

"Will he be able to breathe?"

"Yes. The smoke is rising as it should."

She nodded and the human was taken inside, propped up beside the fire. The woman took care of him, heating water and forcing him to drink it.

She knew they had time and if others did their jobs well, they would have possibly months, but she didn't think it would take so long as that.

Just long enough.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two days later..._

The search for Tim had been going since he had been discovered to be missing. Rognvald Berstan reported that his boat was missing, and the led to the fear either that Tim had managed to take it in his sleep or that he had been taken by someone else...perhaps the person he had mentioned to Isobel.

...but with the storm, the lack of any real knowledge of who Tim was and what his habits were, they had very little to go on. After spending a full day searching, Isobel and Patrick had taken it upon themselves to contact his family. That had led to a call to NCIS. Although they probably shouldn't have, the entire MCRT dropped everything and flew out to Orkney. Naomi and Sam had promised to come as soon as they could, but they had to make special arrangements with the airline for his wheelchair and that meant delays.

...and too many delays could mean...

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"He is ill."

"Yes. A fever."

The man tossed and turned, his eyes unnaturally bright...when they opened.

"Cold to hot. It is not good for him."

"No, but he will survive it."

"You are very confident."

She smiled.

"Perhaps it is not confidence."

"Perhaps not. ...they have not yet found the boat."

The man began to moan.

"No...No...don't...don't cut...no!"

The words attracted their attention.

"This is more than fever."

"Yes...but where is he getting it?"

She smiled.

"He will not believe you."

"I do not care if he believes or not. Soon the human will recover and I will tell him the story. We will see who is right. I believe that I am."

The human began rubbing his fingers together.

"No...no...I don't...don't want it...please..."

"The selkie do not forget."

"He is not a selkie."

The woman looked at the sick man lying before her.

"No...but he is not fully human, either. He has the sea in him."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Gibbs," Isobel said as she invited them all to sit. "I never imagined..."

Gibbs raised his hand. "No. That's not why we're here. We don't blame anyone, especially not the people who've been looking for him."

"It doesn't look good, Mr. Gibbs," Patrick said seriously. "No sign of the boat. No sign of your friend. It was a stormy night. People lost at sea..."

"Are you sure he _did_ go to the water?" Tony asked earnestly. "Couldn't he be on the island somewhere?"

"He could have been, but young Astrid saw him walking to Pierowall on that night. He could have gone elsewhere. We have been searching all of Westray, but the boat being gone the same night. It does not look good."

Gibbs knew that, and he couldn't help feeling somewhat responsible. Why hadn't he been more firm about Tim's actions? He had known that something was wrong...and he had done nothing.

"How can we help in the search?"

"Do any of you sail?"

"I do," Gibbs said.

"We can use hands on the search boats, but if we don't find him soon..."

He didn't need to finish. A rescue was looking less and less likely. They might be engaged in recovery instead. In fact, they had already dredged the harbor.

"We'll help wherever you need extra hands," Gibbs said.

"I will join the search parties," Ziva said. "I am better at tracking than at sailing."

Isobel nodded. "What about his family? His mother...she cried on the phone."

"They're coming," Tony said.

"But McGee's father is in a wheelchair. More arrangements have to be made."

"I understand. They'll want to stay in Kirkwall, I think. We have all Mr. McGee's things for when they arrive."

"Thank you, Ms. Munro," Gibbs said.

All they could think about as they scattered to help in the search was how quickly things could change. One moment, Tim had just been acting a bit strangely. Now, he was missing...possibly dead.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The fever broke on the third night and the human's sleep was calm and deep.

She took up her skin and returned to the sea, leaving others to care for him a while. She had been right. He had survived. Weak, now, but he was alive.

Alive...and on Sule Skerry.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Tim woke up, aching all over, feeling shivery and weak...as if he'd had a bad bout of the flu or something. ...and dreams. Wow, he'd had some doozies this time. He opened his eyes and then blinked. What he was seeing was not what he'd expected to see.

With how he felt, he'd expected to see maybe a hospital, but he saw blue sky. Blue sky!

Tim sat up and then shivered as a number of blankets fell off him, exposing his bare chest. Quickly, he pulled the blankets back around him and looked around. What he saw next brought back some of his...dreams. There were a number of seals sleeping close beside him.

Seals.

"Where am I?" Tim whispered and looked around and around...and around.

There was a lighthouse nearby...but other than that. Only ocean. His eyes widened.

Not dreams, then.

"Ah, you are awake."

The female voice startled him and he turned around to find a woman with long dark hair walking toward him. Where had she come from? She wasn't there before.

Then, he noticed the gray...skin?...how could it be skin? ...in her hand.

"Good morning," she said.

"What's going on? Who..._what_ are you?"

She didn't take offense. She only smiled and nudged the sleeping seals. They grudgingly made room for her to approach. She knelt in front of Tim.

"You are asking a good question. What am I? You know it. You have seen for yourself what I must be."

Tim shook his head...but then stopped as the motion made him feel dizzy.

"Do not deny the evidence of your eyes," she said calmly and held out the skin. "Touch it."

Tim hesitantly did so. It was _not_ a tarp.

"This...is..."

"My skin."

"You...You're..."

"A selkie to use the human term."

"That can't be possible. It's not possible! No...it can't... _you_ can't...no!"

The woman smiled again. In one smooth motion, she removed the clothing she had been wearing and then put on the skin.

...and it was _not_ a woman wearing a costume in front of him. It was a seal. A seal.

"I...I...I can't...are...you are..."

There was a distinct twinkle in the seal's eye and then there was a woman before him again. He closed his eyes until she was dressed.

"Believe what you see. It is true."

"Who are you?"

"I am a selkie."

"Your name?"

"Why is that important?"

"How do you...talk to each other?"

"We speak to whomever we wish to address. Names seem very important to humans. You may call me Eira if it helps you. It is a name I have used in the past."

"I'm not sure it does help. What's going on? Where am I?"

"I told you where you are. Do you remember?"

Tim wracked his brain and thought. "...Sule Skerry?"

Eira nodded.

"But...that's just a song."

"Oh, no. It is quite real. The lighthouse you see was begun over a hundred years ago, but while the lighthouse works, no one lives here any longer. Too remote. Men do come to study the birds but not now."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that you are here...for a time."

"Why?"

"Because you are important."

"But...the other...one...Erlend."

Eira made an exasperated noise. "He has been sent on another task. He will stay away from here in any case. He does not think you are worthy of being on Sule Skerry."

"How long am I here?"

"It depends on how long it takes for someone to think to look here...or else how long it takes for men to come to see the birds."

"How long?" Tim asked again.

"A few weeks...a few months. I do not know for sure."

"How far are we from...from land?"

"If I were to swim as fast as I could without slowing down, it would take me at least three hours to get there...and I would not be able to swim that fast for three hours."

"How fast can you swim?"

Eira smiled. "Do you think that we take time to measure our speed? Do you think that matters to us?"

Tim shrugged. "I don't know. Does it?"

"It does not."

Tim sighed. He knew he was unable to get to whatever land was closest. He couldn't see anything but ocean anyway.

"Why am I here?"

"Because you are important."

"In what way?"

"I do not...think you are...ready for that information. Take the day to adjust to your new life...such as it is." She rose to her feet, her skin in her hand and walked away.

Tim tried to get up and groaned in pain.

"Hey! Wait!"

She turned back.

"What?"

"How many of you...are there?"

Her face became serious. "Not enough." Then, she hurried away to the edge...put on her skin and dove into the sea. Tim watched her swim away and then looked at the other seals around him.

"How many of _you _are selkies?"

They didn't answer.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two days later..._

"Mr. and Mrs. McGee..."

Sam looked at the others with worry. His gaze traveled over the tired searchers and landed on Gibbs.

"What is it?"

Gibbs sighed. "We found the boat...the wreckage of the boat."

"Where?" Naomi asked, her voice soft.

"On the coast of North Ronaldsay."

"Where is that?" Sam asked.

"Northeast of here. The wreckage was on the northern coast."

"Tim?"

"No sign of him."

Naomi took Sam's hand and squeezed it tightly.

"I don't know whether to be relieved or more worried."

Rognvald exchanged a look with Gibbs.

"It's been six days since he was lost."

"Six days."

"We have not found any sign of him on land. The closest island off the coast of North Ronaldsay is the Fair Isle...twenty-seven miles away."

"What are you saying?" Sam asked. "That we should accept that he's dead?"

Patrick Munroe sighed. "I have grown up here in the islands. It is where I have lived my life. People are lost in the sea. Your son, you say, has no experience with sailing. He had shown some problems with walking in his sleep. He was seen walking alone toward the pier. You mentioned that he was having other problems as well. ...and we have not found him."

"You haven't found a body yet, either," Naomi said, fiercely. "You have no evidence one way or the other!"

"But how long will you have us look? We have searched Westray many times. We have searched Papa Westray. Tomorrow, we will search North Ronaldsay now that we know the boat went there. ...but if we do not find him there..."

Naomi brought a hand up and covered her mouth. For a moment, there was no sound and then she took a shuddering breath.

"He's my son. My only son."

Isobel hurried over and sat beside Naomi, putting comforting arms around her.

"We understand, Mrs. McGee. We do understand. We are not saying that we will give up entirely...but after a week...the waters are so cold...you must know that..."

For the first time since the McGees had arrived in Kirkwall, Naomi began to cry.

"I can't...accept that my son is dead! I can't!"

"Mrs. McGee, we will search North Ronaldsay. We will search the waters north of it and east as the currents go. We will see what we can find, but if we find nothing...we will have to call off the search. We can't keep searching forever."

Sam pulled Naomi to him and they hugged each other tightly.

"Another two days," Patrick said, not unkindly. "That is all we can promise."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two days later..._

Tim woke up and pulled himself to shaky legs. He still wasn't feeling his best, and he had to confess that he was jealous of the seals as they flung themselves into the water and played around. Erlend had returned, but he had merely sneered in Tim's general direction and ignored him. In fact, Erlend stayed away from the lighthouse completely. A few of the other selkies came around, some even spoke to Tim, but most of them were aloof...seeming almost ill-at-ease with Tim's presence on Sule Skerry. Only Eira seemed relaxed and in no hurry to explain what she thought he was so important for.

As he watched them, the seals and selkies alike, he found that he recognized them in seal form. He could always pick out Eira. He began to notice which ones were selkies and which were seals. He also could tell the individual seals apart...and he began to see what Eira meant when she said they didn't need names. The markings, the eyes, the whiskers...they all served in place of names.

More than all those observations, Tim began to feel lonely on Sule Skerry. He wasn't hungry for food, although the fish and seaweed Eira brought him weren't extremely to his liking, particularly since he had to eat most of the fish raw. There was only so much fuel for a fire and why risk running out when it wouldn't kill him to eat a raw fish? That's what he told himself to convince himself that this was what he wanted to do.

He wanted companionship. He felt as though his presence were tolerated, nothing more. Oh, Eira had some reason for wanting him there, but it wasn't because of _him_. It was because of whatever goal she had in mind.

Today, Tim took the dizzying climb up the steps to the top of the lighthouse and looked out over the empty sea. He had seen a boat once, but so far away that there was no chance of making contact with them.

With a sigh, he leaned over the railing, focusing, not on the frightening ground below, but on the people he wished he could see...somewhere out there.

He let his mind wander...and before he knew it, he was singing that same song that had led him here. The words came to him with unnerving ease now.

"_Upon the skerry is thy son;  
><em>_upon the skerry lieth he.  
><em>_Sin thou would see thine ain young son,  
><em>_now is the time tae speak wi' he."_

Then, suddenly, a female voice sang with him. He turned and there was Eira.

"_But how shall I my young son know  
><em>_when thou ha' ta'en him far frae me?"_

She smiled and gestured for him to finish the song, now that she'd sung the part of the woman. Tim looked back out at the sea and did so.

"_The one who wears the chain o' gowd,  
><em>_`mang a' the selchies shall be he. _

_And thou will get a hunter good,  
><em>_and a richt fine hunter I'm sure he'll be;  
><em>_and the first ae shot that e'er he shoots  
><em>_will kill baith my young son and me."_

There was a silence after he finished singing and then, very softly, Eira sang the extra verse Isobel had sung.

"_Alas, alas this woeful fate  
><em>_This weary fate that's been laid for me.'  
><em>_And once or twice she sobbed and sighed,  
><em>_An' her tender heart did brak' in three._"

"Why do I know that song?"

"Because it is a story that you need to know."

"Why? It's just a song."

"It is more than a song. It is a warning."

"To whom?"

"To us...but also to you."

"I don't get it," Tim said and turned away from the ocean. "I don't get that...and I don't get you...and I don't get why I'm here. I don't understand."

"What am I?" Eira asked.

"You're a selkie."

"Yes."

"Does that mean that you're a seal who can turn into a human being or a human being who can turn into a seal?"

Eira smiled. "Yes."

"That doesn't answer my question, Eira."

"That is because it is the wrong question. I am a selkie. That is all I am. All I ever have been and all I ever will be. I do not even understand your question, not in the way you mean it. I am a selkie. On the land I am...a woman. In the sea...I am a seal."

"And what about me?"

"What _about_ you?"

"I'm human. Always. In the water or on the land, that's what I am."

"Yes."

"Does that make me somehow...less than you?"

"It makes you different."

Tim sighed. "Eira, what do you see when you look at me?"

"I see a man. A human man."

"To Erlend that means I'm a lesser being."

"Erlend is..."

"Erlend is honest," Tim said. "He's stayed away from me and I'm glad of that, but he wasn't hiding his feeling about who I am...what I am. He looks at me and sees someone lesser. It's obvious in his eyes. What about you?"

"I see potential," Eira said.

"For what?"

"You'll see."

"No. Eira...explain to me! I don't understand all this. I'm not even sure I believe it's really happening. I'm not sure that I'm not just hallucinating or that I'm in a hospital somewhere in a coma or something."

"You are not."

"Even if I grant you that...I still don't understand."

"That is because you are human, not selkie."

"You're as much a human as I am...right now."

"No. I am not."

Eira walked over beside Tim and looked out at the ocean.

"What do you see when you look out there?" she asked.

Tim looked at the endless sea.

"A prison. The ocean...it's the walls to keep me here. It keeps me from my home."

Eira nodded. "Your walls are my home." She turned to face Tim directly and he found himself looking deep into her dark eyes. "Understand this, Timothy McGee: No matter where I go, what I do...the sea is my home. I will never love anything or anyone more than I love the sea. It calls to me. I feel it in my blood. The sea is a part of me, one that I can never lose and remain whole. If I were kept from the sea, if a man were to take my seal skin and hide it so that I could not return...I would feel an ache that could not ever heal. I would be trapped by the land...much as you feel trapped by the sea. That is what you must understand in order to understand me, in order to understand the selkies."

Tim found himself transfixed by Eira's dark eyes. He could barely distinguish between the irises and the pupils...and something inside him stirred, something as nebulous as the first calls Eira had planted in his mind. He couldn't define it, couldn't explain it...anymore than he could have explained the urging, the compulsion that had eventually driven him to this place. ...but it was there. It was new, but it was there.

"Then...help me understand," he said. "Help me understand why I'm here...why you need me here...and help me understand what you're doing to me."

Eira smiled and held out her hand.

"Come with me...and we will make a start."

Tim hesitated and then took her hand and was surprised at its smoothness...almost as smooth as her seal skin.

She led him down the stairs and out of the lighthouse.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_The next day..._

There was no sign of Tim along any of the currents near North Ronaldsay. Out of desperation, they had even contacted the Fair Isle...with no success.

The word was out among all the fishermen in Orkney and anyone with a boat...but the search itself was called off. Gibbs contacted the U.S. Embassy and told them of Tim's disappearance. The Orkney police contacted the Missing Persons Bureau with the idea that if someone had abducted Tim, he might be found elsewhere, but the fear was that Tim had wandered off in his sleep and drowned, his body down in the depths or tangled in some area where he could not be found.

Tim was listed as lost at sea...and his friends and family had no choice but to return to the United States and pray for a miracle to bring Tim back to them.

"_Upon the skerry is thy son;  
><em>_upon the skerry lieth he.  
><em>_Sin thou would see thine ain young son,  
><em>_now is the time tae speak wi' he."_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Eira took Tim down to the edge of the sea and sat him on the rocks where the waves would occasionally shower him with spray. He shivered.

"Do we have to sit here?"

"Listen to the story, feel the sea. Understand."

Tim nodded. "Okay."

"There are many tales of the selkies. Some are true. Others are not. Here is one tale that you must understand."

"Why?"

"Listen."

Tim nodded. A wave broke over them. Tim hunched his shoulders...but Eira straightened and shook her long hair as the spray hit her face.

"It was many years ago. Many years. A woman cried seven tears into the sea and called a selkie man to her. He came. He loved her as he had loved many before. From that love...came a child, a daughter...and she was marked as the child of a selkie."

"What does that mean?"

Eira took one of Tim's hands and, gently, she traced the line of his fingers. When she reached the bottom of the space between his first and second fingers, Tim curled his fingers into a fist and drew his hand away...not knowing why.

"Your spirit knows, even if _you_ do not."

"What?"

"She had webbed hands and feet. That has always been the sign of a selkie child. Sometimes, that heritage is hidden and they will cut the webbing away."

Tim felt his fist tighten and he felt a strange thrill of fear.

"You know."

"How? How do I know?"

"Listen. It is tradition that the child will spend seven years with his mother and then...then, the father will come and take the child to the sea, to be a selkie. Then, as the child grows up, he can decide if he will be a selkie or a human, but the choice must be made by the child."

"How can a child make that decision?"

"It is instinctive. The part that is strongest will call to the child and that is where the child will go, but if that choice is prevented...it is cutting off the connection to the sea. It is...mangling the child's spirit. That is what happened to this woman's daughter. She would not allow the selkie man to take the child to the sea. She cut the webbing. It grew back. She cut it again. It grew back. She cut it until finally, it was as though the spirit of the child was cut and retreated...and the webbing did not grow back."

"How do you know?"

"We watch. We know. We hear. The woman was not satisfied with this torture. She took her child and fled Orkney. She ran to Scotland. Inland. Away from the sea. She married a man who raised her daughter as his own, never knowing the reason for his adopted daughter's scars, for her withdrawn ways. She grew to be very beautiful...in spite of the gnarled scars on her hands...and her feet."

Tim winced. He knew Eira noticed.

"The men noticed her. They followed her. Some actively pursued...but she would have none of them. It was only when one man, a stranger to the town, a fisherman, came by the house one day that she chose. Without knowing her own history, she found herself attracted to the man who sailed on the sea. ...only this time, he was leaving Scotland and heading for a new land across the Atlantic Ocean. She came to him in the night while he slept in the barn and told him she loved him and wanted to come with him. He agreed. They snuck away that very night and went to a priest and were married. Then, they ran to the coast, to the ship headed for America."

"Why do I need to know this?"

"The man's name...was Thomas McGee."

"You're...saying that _I_ am descended from a selkie? Come on!"

Eira's expression was solemn. "Think of your family. Have they not been lured to the sea?"

Tim tried to scoff, but then he thought of his father...a former Navy officer. His grandfather...and back and back. Sailors. But not all of them.

"But not all of us," he said aloud. "I have lots of relatives who weren't in the Navy."

"_Your_ family," Eira said. "Your line. Directly back...and it goes back to Thomas McGee and his wife, Kaira...the daughter of a selkie."

"Why is this important?" Tim asked.

Another wave broke over them. Tim didn't notice it this time.

Eira's expression turned mournful. "Do you know where that song came from?"

"No."

"It was only written down fairly recently. The story it tells is true. The selkie man...he came and took his son, and he taught him to swim, to be a selkie. ...and the woman's husband...hunted seals...and killed the selkie man and his son. Two were lost. Vengeance was taken for that." Her eyes darkened almost to black. "...but vengeance could not bring back the dead. His line...lost because he was killed. His son was killed. His daughter stolen."

"So...why me? I'm the least...sea-worthy person in my family. I get seasick!"

Eira knelt on the hard rocks and took both Tim's hands in her own.

"There is always one who is a true descendant of the selkies."

"And you're trying to say it's me? Why me? Why not my sister?"

"I did not call your sister. I called you. You heard the song. You heard my call. ...and here, by the sea...can you not feel it inside you? It has been locked away as it was for Kaira, but it is safe to let it out, to _feel_ the sea! None will punish you for feeling it!"

"Punish me? No one would ever have done that. My family isn't like that."

"And yet you hide from it. You fear the sea because you fear what it will show you. You fear that it will reveal your true self."

Tim stood up, ignoring the slight lightheadedness. "I am _not_ a selkie!"

Eira stood as well. "No, you are not. You are the true descendant of a selkie. You are a man, but still you have the sea in you and you can let it out! You must!"

Tim backed away from her and left the shore, left the sea and retreated the lighthouse.

...but even with the door closed, to block out the sound...Tim thought he could feel the power of the waves vibrating inside him.

"No. This is not me," he whispered. "This can't be real."

He spent the rest of the day alone in the lighthouse...but he couldn't hide from the sea. All the day and into the night, he could hear it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky met Gibbs, Tony and Ziva at the airport, but Tony and Ziva begged off staying to talk, choosing instead to split a cab. That's all they said before walking off, clearly despondent.

"No alleviating the sadness yet," Ducky said softly.

"No," Gibbs said bitterly. "Why would there be?"

"Jethro..."

"I let him get on a plane and fly to the back end of nowhere. I knew he'd been having trouble. I knew he'd been having problems. We all knew it...and I didn't stop him."

Ducky led Gibbs out of the airport.

"Jethro, Timothy is an adult! You couldn't have stopped him."

"Wanna bet?"

Ducky smiled tolerantly. "Jethro, I understand that you feel guilt, that you are upset about...Timothy's disappearance, but you can't blame yourself."

"Yeah, I can."

"Very well...you _can_, but you shouldn't. None of us realized how serious Timothy's problem was. None of us...including his parents. Perhaps we should have, but we didn't, and if Timothy _is_ dead..." Ducky paused. "...if so, then, blaming ourselves for his loss...will not bring him back and will only serve to lengthen everyone's suffering."

Gibbs was silent as they got into Ducky's car.

"What did the McGees have to say?" Ducky asked.

"Memorial service is next week...to give his relatives a chance to get there. They don't want to do it, but they decided it's better to get it done...and then if they get a miracle, they can celebrate."

"They don't believe it will happen," Ducky said.

Gibbs stared straight ahead. "No. They don't. The facts are against him surviving. No sign of him on land anywhere. All the tourists accounted for. The water around Orkney is only a few degrees above freezing. It wouldn't take him long to freeze to death if he went into the water."

Ducky nodded sadly.

"It would have been so easy to stop him...and I didn't."

"It might have been harder than you think, Jethro. Timothy told me he felt as though he _had_ to go to Orkney. If that is the case, if the feeling was as strong as he implied it was, he would have found a way. Whatever it was that instigated this...we couldn't have prevented it."

Gibbs looked out his window.

"I feel like I've left him behind...by not finding him. I don't leave my men behind."

"The search would have had to end. You told me they would still keep an eye out for anything that might be a sign of him."

Gibbs nodded.

"Then, I will continue to pray for...closure at the least."

"That's not enough."

Ducky took a deep breath. "No. It never is."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_One day later..._

Tim isolated himself for a full day, but the isolation made the sea seem louder, not softer. It was night...dark, and Tim let himself out of the lighthouse.

There were a few seals, interspersed with selkies, sleeping on the rocks. Tim made his way to the rocks where Eira had talked to him before and sat down. The waves sprayed him with mist and he shivered but didn't flinch.

After a while, he noticed a presence behind him...and he could tell who it was.

"I was really young," he said softly.

Eira came and crouched beside him. She said nothing.

"I don't remember how old I was. I just know that I was pretty young at the time. My dad took me to the ocean. He was home and wanted to spend time with me."

Another wave.

"We went to the ocean together. I was really excited to go. I wasn't afraid of the water. Not at all. Actually, Dad was more worried because I kept running into the waves. They would knock me down and I just laughed. It was...wonderful."

Tim smiled wistfully.

"...but it didn't end that way. Dad took me out on a boat. I don't remember what kind or who else was there. It seemed big to me, but I wanted to...to see the water. I kept leaning over to see it, to see my reflection distorted in the waves."

He looked up at the clear night sky, the bright stars, dimmed only by the occasional flashes from the lighthouse.

"I wasn't wearing a life jacket. I don't remember why not. Dad would have made me put one on, but it was restricting. I couldn't move very well. I took it off." Tim shivered again. "I fell...into the water. There was a moment...I was all alone in the water. The boat had kept moving...moving away from me. I didn't know how to swim. I started to sink. It felt like I was there forever." He laughed. "In reality, it was less than a minute from the time I fell to when Dad jumped in and got me. ...but the water...it had tried to kill me. I was afraid of it. The water had pulled me in and then tried to kill me. Dad was mad...and worried. He lectured me about how dangerous it was to play in the water when you weren't wearing a life jacket or else when...when you didn't know how to swim. Water is a dangerous thing."

Eira spoke for the first time. "And yet, you cannot live without it."

"No. You can't...but I learned how to swim. I learned water safety."

"But you lost your love of it."

"Yes."

"And now?"

"Now..." Tim turned to look at Eira. "...now, I feel it...inside me. It's not love. It's something else. It's a...I don't know."

"A need."

Tim nodded. "I need it...but I never did before."

Eira shook her head. "No, you did. You just did not understand that you did. It is the missing piece of you."

"You talk about this like it matters."

"It does."

"I've spent days here...with you...with others. Without you. ...and either way, I'm alone because...whatever it is that you want from me...it has nothing to do with who I am. Does it? Me...as a...a living being...that doesn't matter."

Eira moved closer to Tim.

"You living is very important."

Tim shook his head. "Only because if I was dead, you couldn't use me."

Eira leaned in and kissed him. Tim backed away in surprise, but the sea surged in his blood and he responded for a moment before pulling back. Eira smiled at him.

"Did that feel as though I did not care about who you are?"

"What do you want, Eira? What is it?" He shivered in the mist from another wave.

Eira said nothing. She simply pulled him close to her and he felt the warmth from her body, felt the surge of the sea in his veins...and gave up trying to get answers to questions that suddenly seemed unimportant. Even the worry about his friends and family, the fear of never getting off this island, all of it...it all faded to nothing in his mind.

His past and his future meant nothing. Only this one moment...and he responded to Eira's silent request.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up the next morning, shaking and cold, with Eira beside him on the bare tufts of grass. She seemed utterly unaffected by the chilly winds and low temperatures, but then, she was a selkie. He reached out with a shaking hand and touched her cheek. Her eyes opened and she smiled at him and then, without speaking, she sat up, wrapped her arms around him...and led him back to the lighthouse where his human body could regain some of the heat lost to the cold night air.

...and after she had helped him warm up again, Eira took up her skin and Tim was left alone, standing there in the doorway, watching the seals and selkies swimming in the sea... and he felt as though he was missing something that had been torn away from his soul...something he couldn't ever have. Something that...he desperately wanted.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_Four days later..._

Tim sat on the grass, eating a fish (or rather, choking down a raw fish) and watching the seals play. Eira was among them. The ache he'd begun to feel inside was growing stronger. It made him antsy, made him...need an outlet for the pain, and Eira had given him that. He hoped for rescue, but her companionship had made it easier to bear.

"You have not joined them, human."

Tim looked over his shoulder and saw Erlend standing there with his usual superior expression.

"No, I haven't," he said and turned back to his fish.

"You are enjoying Eira's attention."

"That's none of your business."

Erlend came and knelt beside Tim.

"Oh, it is my business. You are here on Sule Skerry. You have been allowed to live by the others, and you seem to feel that you have been accepted. Well, you have not."

"Fine," Tim said. "I don't care what you think of me. You've hated me from the beginning. I don't care. I don't like you much either."

"And you think that _Eira_ cares for you? Do you think that she cares for your well-being?"

Tim didn't answer, trying to ignore him. Erlend got very close and spoke directly in Tim's ear.

"Do you not know where I was for those first days after you came here?" Erlend asked. "I was towing the boat I stole far away from where it sunk...so that all would give you up for lost, and they have done so. Your family has come, searched and given up. You are dead to them. No one looks for you now...as _Eira_ planned it. Why do you think she has brought you here? Why do you think she has not told you?"

Tim looked at Erlend, wanting to disregard what he had said, but finding it difficult.

"Wake up, human. You are only here to be used."

Then, Erlend strode away.

Tim watched him go and the words stuck in his craw, making it impossible to enjoy what little pleasure he got out of being stuck on land watching the others in the sea. He threw away the rest of the fish (he didn't like them anyway) and walked away from his vantage point. What Erlend had said was far too close to true. It wasn't as though there had been a whole lot of conversation between them...and that made Tim uncomfortable. It wasn't the way things should be.

It didn't take long for Eira to come and find him. She smiled as she always had and settled down beside him, not speaking for a long time. Tim didn't speak either.

"What is this?" she asked, picking up Tim's right hand and twirling the ring around his finger. It was looser now than it had been...quite a bit looser.

Tim looked at it almost with surprise. He'd barely noticed that the ring had survived the sinking boat, the days on Sule Skerry.

"It's a ring," he said.

"Where did you get it? It is...beautiful. Like the sea taken and made into...art."

"A jeweler on Mainland," Tim said softly. "She's inspired by the sea. I bought it there."

"It is very lovely."

"Not really your kind of thing, though, right?"

She smiled. "No. It would be hard to put a ring on over my flippers."

"I imagine it would." Tim looked at the ring and then looked out at the sea.

"What is it?" she asked after Tim had been silent for a while.

"Can you...show me?"

"Show you what?"

Tim took Eira by the hand and led her to the rocky shore.

"Show me what I'm not seeing."

"I do not understand you."

"I know you don't. More than two weeks, I've been here, almost exclusively with you...and you still don't understand. Eira...I'm beginning to think you don't _want_ to understand me. I think that...you're getting what you want...and that's all that matters, isn't it." He looked at the water.

"You are starting to hide away again."

Tim looked at her. "How is it that you can feel that in me...and yet, know _nothing_ about who I am? Even if I'm...somehow related to a selkie, that's far from all I am...but you don't care about anything else. You're as bad as Erlend. You get what want and that's all that matters. You didn't bring me here to help me unlock that part of myself. Why? Eira, tell me now. Tell me why you brought me here."

Eira hesitated and then she sighed. "To restore what was lost."

"What do you mean?"

"The line that was lost to us...it lives on in you. We have been waiting for a true descendant to be born, a male, one who could come here to Sule Skerry and restore the line that was lost when the selkie man was killed. Our numbers have been getting smaller and we fear losing ourselves."

"So..." Tim sat there on the rocks, looking first at Eira and then at the sea. "...so you brought me here..._trapped _me here...to..."

"You are not in a _trap_. There are no boats coming here."

"Because _you_ and your friends _arranged_ it that way. Or did Erlend lie when he said that he moved the boat somewhere else to make people think I'd drowned?"

"Erlend told you this?"

"Yes. Is it true?"

"Yes. It is."

"So...you've stranded me here...to..."

"...to be with you...to lie with you. To have sex with you if you wish me to be blunt."

Tim laughed a little. "I can't believe this."

"Why? Is it so hard to understand?"

"To understand?" Tim repeated. "Oh, no. That's quite clear. I just can't believe that...that this is all you care about. It's not me. You don't care that you turned my whole life upside down. You don't care that my family is probably out of their minds with worry about where I am. You don't care that my friends thought I was crazy. All you care about is this...this nebulous link that I apparently have with my selkie ancestor. That's what you care about. ...and you don't seem to understand that I would be _bothered _by that." He stood up and looked down at Eira. "If that's what it means to be a selkie...I want none of it." He walked away...back to the lighthouse.

For the next three days, the only time Tim ventured out was when nature called or when they brought him food. No one spoke to him and he made no attempt to communicate. He closed himself off from the others. He would occasionally appear at the top of the lighthouse, staring out at the sea...eastward, toward Orkney...or westward...toward his home.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I do not want to go," Ziva said softly.

"You've got to go, Ziva," Tony said. "He's your friend! You can't just be AWOL from McGee's memorial service!"

"Memorial...if we have this...this sham...it will be saying that he is dead and is never coming back!"

"That's because...he's not," Tony said, his voice rough. "McGee's gone, Ziva. He's not coming back. One of us calls them every day and there's nothing."

"We stopped looking too soon," Ziva said. "We should have stayed until we had evidence of something."

"We did have evidence. We found the boat. Empty and wrecked."

"McGee is my friend."

"Yeah...he's mine, too, Ziva."

"Why should we give up on our friend, Tony? When we thought _you_ were dead, McGee refused to believe it. He would not give up on _you_. Why have we given up on him?"

"It was different, Ziva, and you know it."

"When did you become the logical one and I..." Tears came to her eyes.

"Hey, you're allowed to have feelings occasionally."

"Yes, I know."

"Now...it's time to go. If we're late to carpool to Ohio, Gibbs will kill us."

Ziva smiled and nodded. "Yes. We cannot miss this. You are right. We must say...good-bye."

Tony mustered a hearty smile. "And, hey, if McGee _does_ show up alive, then we can say hello again!"

Ziva rolled her eyes, but for once, stood close to Tony as they headed for the car.

...to say good-bye to Tim.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim came out on the third day and walked shakily across Sule Skerry to where Eira was sunning herself with the other seals and selkies.

"Eira..." he said, his voice slightly hoarse from disuse.

In a smooth motion, Eira slipped off her skin. He had seen it so often that he didn't even pause.

"Yes?"

"If you need my...body...my DNA, my genes, whatever...fine. You can have it."

Tim knew he sounded anything but enthusiastic, anything but willing. He'd been wrestling with himself in the lighthouse, trying to close up what Eira had opened in him...to no avail. He couldn't fight it any longer. It was so strong inside him that it was driving him crazy.

"Just...ask," he finished lamely and turned away.

"Wait! Tim...wait."

Tim turned back. "You used my name."

Eira walked close to him.

"May I speak with you?"

"Do you actually _want_ to or is this another sop to my wounded ego?"

"I wish to speak with you."

"All right."

Eira walked away from the others, but not to the lighthouse. Tim shivered a little in the wind, but he didn't complain about it.

"I have thought about what you said, and I am sorry. I am sorry that I have made it impossible for you to be found. I am sorry for why you are here."

"Not sorry enough to change your mind."

"No. I cannot. It is something that we must do, but it is also something that...that I _do _want...and I would hate to feel as though you have been forced to do something you do not want to do."

Tim sat down on a rocky crag on the west side of the skerry.

"But don't you understand that...knowing this is something you feel you have to do... It's hard to believe that you're sincere."

"Yes, I can see that...and I see that...that I did not give you any reason to believe me. I am sorry for that. Can you accept that I am sorry?"

Tim sighed and looked away from her.

"Yes...I can...but..."

"But still you are unsure about what I really want."

"Yes."

"Then...you may take your time. Am I such a poor choice for you?"

"You're not a choice!" Tim said and looked at her, shaking his head. "You're not really giving me a choice...and you haven't from day one. What you're trying to do now is make everything sound better."

"Do you find me so distasteful?"

"No! You're...You're beautiful, Eira. ...but..." He looked back at the sea.

"What?"

Again, Tim shook his head and didn't answer. That aching feeling surged up in him again. It was almost a physical pain.

"What is it, Tim?"

"You...forced me to feel the sea inside me. ...but it's something I can't...can't get rid of, can't avoid...but I can't satisfy that need." He stood up and flung his arms wide, facing into the cold wind. "I'm a human being...but you've given me the...the soul of a selkie and I want...I want the sea, but I can't have it!" Then, his arms fell to his sides and he sagged. "But when I was with you...it was as close as I'll ever come to having the sea." He turned to her. "That's what you've done to me." He grabbed her arms. "You woke that up in my blood...without thinking what that would do...to me."

"You may take from me what you need."

Tim let her go and turned back to the sea. He walked closer to the edge of the rock. A wave crashed over the rock, over Tim's bare (and now extremely-calloused) feet.

"I can't...deal with what I feel."

Another wave and this time, Tim followed it out. He ran down the rock into the cold waters of the sea.

"Wait! Tim!" Eira called from behind him.

Tim couldn't listen to her. The last three days had seen the sea in his blood build up to overflowing and, having never felt it before...or at least not since he was very young, Tim couldn't tolerate it. Like a dam breaking, the inundation of the sea inside him threatened to drown him with its power. Just as the song had urged him to Orkney, just as Erlend had called him to the boat, now the sea was calling him to join it. This strange world Tim had found himself in had its own set of rules...and no one had bothered to tell Tim what they were...to his detriment.

Another wave crashed and drove him under the water and he probably would have drowned. He made no effort to swim to the surface...but the selkies came and pulled him back to the island. Tim began fighting to get back to the sea. It didn't matter that it would kill him. He needed to calm the raging torrent in his blood, the boiling waves inside his brain. The selkies were stronger than he, but it took three of them to hold him back. ...at first, but then, he stiffened and collapsed.

Eira helped them carry him back to the lighthouse. They started a fire, removed Tim's wet (and ragged) clothing, and then piled the smelly, ratty blankets on top of him. Eira slid beneath them and held Tim tightly all through the night as he shivered and moaned.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two days later..._

"Go...let...go...now...have to..." Tim mumbled and stirred, trying to get himself up.

"No, Tim. You must stay here. You will be all right. Stay. Sleep. You will get better again."

One shaking hand appeared from beneath the blankets, reaching out for the sea which was out of sight, but clearly not out of his mind. Eira took hold of the hand and caressed it and then his arm, pulling it back beneath the blankets. After the night of cold, Tim had become feverish again, although she didn't think it could be attributed to his injuries this time.

"He is unchanged?"

The voice took Eira's attention from Tim and onto the selkie who had come in.

"Unchanged," she agreed.

"Erlend was right. He is too weak. Perhaps we called the wrong person."

"No!" Eira said, almost fiercely. "I have been with him. He is the one."

"I have not seen this in any who have come to the sea."

"He had hidden it inside himself. He has not learned yet how to feel it. He will learn and he will be heal."

"Do you speak from knowledge or from desire?"

"Desire," Eira said without apology. "That does not make it untrue."

"It does not make it true either."

"We have no choice...no more than he."

The selkie man blinked at her with his dark eyes and then looked at Tim's shivering, sweaty face.

"I think you are happy with the choice you cannot make."

Eira smiled. "Perhaps I am."

"Do not become too happy."

"I have not forgotten who I am, nor who he is."

"Nor _what_ you both are?"

"I have not forgotten," she said.

"Let me go!" Tim said, in one of his sudden moments of strength. He pulled away from her, the blankets falling off him and he tried to get to the door, tried to get out of the lighthouse.

The selkie man stopped him and forced him back. Tim began to cry in frustration, his eyes bright with fever.

"Have to...have to get...the sea...must...now...have to..."

"No," the selkie man said. "You will stay here."

Eira took Tim and turned him to her.

"I am here, Tim," she said. "Look at me."

Breathing heavily, Tim faced her...and his eyes gained some semblance of sanity.

"Help...Eira...help me..."

"I will help you, Tim. I will not leave you."

"I...can't..." He closed his eyes and didn't finish his sentence. Flushed, feverish and shaking, Tim didn't look at all like someone with enough strength to survive, but she was sure that he could make it.

"You can. It will take only time. I am here. I will give you what help I can."

As Tim grabbed desperately onto her, Eira realized that somewhere in the last few days, she really _had_ come to care about him. Some of it was guilt, yes, but not all. Some was simply concern for _him_.

The selkie man looked at her knowingly and left them alone in the lighthouse.

"I am here, Tim," she said and held him tightly in her arms.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_Three days later..._

Tim opened his eyes and saw what he had expected to see: the lighthouse. He felt arms around him and he turned his head to the side.

Eira. She was sleeping beside him, her arms holding him securely. For the moment, he didn't feel a need to move and he tried to determine how he felt overall...about everything. He'd been here on Sule Skerry for weeks now. How many, he didn't know...and for some reason, that didn't mean much to him. He didn't know why not when, logically, he knew he couldn't plan on surviving here forever...not on seaweed and raw fish. The fresh water (or rather the stale water that wasn't salty) wouldn't last forever, either.

He took a deep breath and listened to his own body. The sea was still there, but quiescent for now. It was not demanding anything of him, nothing that he couldn't give. He felt...unsettled still, but he was not desperate. He felt as though he'd been physically ill...and now...was different...somehow. The change in him was something he couldn't explain in words, not even to himself. There was something that had changed in the time between he had fallen ill (if that's what had really happened), and now...

It was dark. It must be nighttime.

How long would he be on Sule Skerry? Did it matter? He had no way of getting to anywhere else...unless he could somehow build a boat and then force the selkies and/or seals to pull it for him. That image brought an all-too-brief smile to his face. The smile vanished. Could he escape the sea in any case? He looked at Eira again.

_I can't hate her._

He had tried, but even in the midst of his hurt at realizing her motives, and his pain from the churning sea inside him...he couldn't bring himself to hate her, and he couldn't leave her.

...and it all went back to this strange feeling. Was it just that his normal emotions had been stunned by the newly-awakened awareness? Even thinking about his family and friends brought little anxiety, very little regret...it was a distant, disconnected feeling.

Wanting to think...alone for a while, Tim looked at Eira, focused on her, not knowing just what he was doing, and carefully relaxed her hold on him.

She didn't awaken.

He slid out from under the blankets, realized he was naked and grabbed his clothes...such as they were. When he stood up, he was extremely dizzy and had to grab onto the railing by the stairs. Then, he staggered out of the lighthouse and into the cold night. He shivered but persisted. He noticed that there were more birds on the island than when he'd first come. Puffins, if he remembered right.

He ignored the birds...and they ignored him. He just walked to the ocean and sat down on one of the many rocks.

...and for the first time since this whole mess had begun, he started to sing entirely of his own volition.

"_I am a man upon the land;  
><em>_I am a selchie on the sea,  
><em>_and when I'm far frae ev'ry strand,  
><em>_my dwelling is in Sule Skerry."_

That was the only verse he sang, and he didn't sing it loudly...but every word came out with a strange intensity.

"I'll never be on the sea," he whispered. "Never."

He remembered what Eira had said before, that she loved the sea more than anything or anyone else. He understood.

For a couple of hours, he sat alone, staring at the sea, feeling cold and yet unwilling to leave his place. Staring him in the face was the fact that in everything but fact, he'd been changed...changed to one of them...only they couldn't change his body and that meant he had all the longing with none of the possibility for satisfying it. All he had was the longing.

He'd never liked the feeling of the waves going up and down, the swell of the ocean...but now, it was all he wanted...and all he could never have.

A blanket was draped over his shoulders. He looked up.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better." A wholly inadequate word for how he was really feeling.

Eira sat beside him.

"Are you not cold?"

"Yes."

"You should go back inside."

"No. I'm staying outside." Going back into the lighthouse suddenly seemed like the worst thing in the world.

"You are not a selkie."

"I know, but I feel...trapped in the lighthouse."

There was a long pause.

"I am glad you are doing better."

"Thank you."

Silence...which stretched out for uncounted minutes.

"What do you want, Tim?"

A million answers flashed through Tim's mind in an instant, but it was this new strange feeling inside him that answered...answered with words he knew he would not have said in other times. He looked at her.

"I want you."

Eira's expression was different as she smiled, but she nodded.

"You may have me."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The memorial service meant more than they had thought it would. They had learned things about Tim that they'd never known before, things he hadn't told them...things they hadn't ever bothered to ask...and the subject kept coming up over the next couple of weeks whenever they got together for any reason. The topic always went back to Tim. It almost became a game of "Who knew?" and one person would ask who had known something about Tim that had come up at the memorial service.

"Okay...who knew that McGee always wanted to be in law enforcement?" Tony asked.

Everyone raised their hands.

"Come on...you all did?"

"He has always been very interested in NCIS. I never had any sense that he wanted to be anywhere else," Ziva said.

"Yeah, but did you know that he had always planned on it, that this was a job he wanted since he was young? Who knew that part?"

No one raised their hands that time.

"Why didn't he ever mention it?"

"When would the topic have come up?" Jimmy asked.

"Kate asked me about how I got my job at NCIS," Tony said. "Years back."

"Before McGee was on your team?" Ziva asked.

"Yeah."

"Did anyone ever ask _him_ that?"

"Guess not."

There was a period of silence...as there often was when they finished talking about Tim...an ache for the one who had so unfairly been taken...regret for words never spoken, things never done.

"I called today," Abby said. "They haven't seen anything."

Nods all around. Nothing more. No one even _expected_ anything at this point...but they still checked.

"I'm going back there this summer," Tony said.

"What for?" Ziva asked.

"Vacation."

"You're going to look for Tim, aren't you," Abby said.

"I might take some time to do that. I have leave time coming to me. Why let it go to waste?"

More silence.

"When are you going to go?"

"End of July...somewhere around there."

"How long?"

"A week."

More silence.

"Vance is going to force Gibbs to replace McGee," Ziva said finally. "We cannot have the empty desk for much longer."

"It hasn't been that long," Tony protested.

"Five weeks," Abby said dully. "He's been missing for five weeks, Tony."

Abby never said that Tim was dead. Missing. Gone. Disappeared. Vanished. Never dead.

Another long silence.

"I'll have time at the end of July," Jimmy said. "I'll come."

Tony looked at Jimmy and smiled. "Okay."

There was nothing else to say. They finished their drinks and left.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Three days later..._

"...and I can still remember Tony's face when he realized that if he hit me he'd be risking getting poison ivy spreading to _him_. I think he felt a little sorry for me, too, though."

Eira laughed appreciatively. "How long did it take for it to heal?"

"I don't remember now, but it was a while." Tim took a breath and let it out quickly. "Okay, your turn."

Eira looked at Tim with some concern but then she smiled. "Very well. I was very proud as a child and I believed that I was the best selkie ever born. I could beat all the others in races. I could stay underwater longer. I decided that I was going to climb to the top of Sule Stack."

"What's that?"

"It is a small...island, I guess you may call it. It is south of Sule Skerry and much smaller. Birds fly there, but they fly. It is easy to roost atop the Stack with wings. I was sure that I could do it...and I did it...almost."

"And?"

She smiled. "I got...stuck. I slipped and became wedged in a crack. If I had attempted to remove my seal skin, I would have fallen and become injured. If I stayed where I was and was discovered, I would injure my pride. If I was _not_ discovered...I would have be stuck there. I was afraid...and in that moment, I lost my pride. When I was found by the seals, they got the selkies and I was safely retrieved...and I was not lectured. The experience was lecture enough for me...as was the teasing I justly received."

Tim laughed...but then shivered and closed his eyes.

"Again?"

"Yes."

"I am here, Tim."

"It's not as bad as it was."

"I am still here."

Tim looked at Eira and then pulled her to him and held her tightly.

"Tell me it goes away," Tim said, shaking as the desire to go to the sea almost overwhelmed him. He was ready for it now. It seemed to ebb and flow like the tides. ...but it still caused him distress. "Tell me it goes away."

"It will go away. Be with me. It will hurt less."

"D-Did she feel like this? Kaira? Did she?"

"I do not think she ever felt the sea again."

"Lucky her."

"No. It is a tragedy."

"I don't like this. I don't like it!"

"Hold me, Tim. Feel it in me. It is tame. It will listen. It will calm."

...and after a few hours, it did calm, and Tim felt the sea ebb within him.

And he slept in Eira's arms.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Three weeks later_...

Eira watched from a distance as the seals leapt around Tim. The water was still much too cold for him, but he would go to the edge where the waves crashed over the rocks and he would play with the seals. It was almost a game of tag, although without any hard and fast rules. The selkies might still sneer at him for his seeming weakness, but she enjoyed watching Tim in those rare moments of happiness. It was a glimpse almost of a stranger which was sad in a way. When they were together, he usually wasn't _miserable_...although the longing was still there on occasion and she knew it hurt him...but it was a different situation, one that he was still ambivalent about at best, although he hid it.

His time with the selkies wasn't extensive. Most of them were still unsure of him and his presence. Erlend was downright disdainful still and some of the others followed his outlook. The seals, on the other hand, made no judgments. After getting used to Tim's presence, he was incorporated into their lives. On the days when the call of the sea didn't hurt him, he would play in the waves with them until the cold drove him back under the blankets to warm up. He still refused to go back into the lighthouse, even when it rained. The seals would sometimes come with him and they would crowd around him, warming him up with their bodies. The birds were starting to flock to the island to breed. Soon, there would be hundreds, if not thousands there, digging burrows and laying their eggs.

It was that time of the year...and the thought made Eira smile secretly to herself.

She had succeeded. All the years of planning, all the time spent searching...it had all come to fruition finally. Eira knew it. She could feel the change inside her and she knew. She knew she had succeeded even beyond what she had expected. Not one, but two. She could already tell that much and it made her smile to realize what that would mean for the others, what it meant to her, personally.

...and she knew that meant she could leave. They could all leave and go elsewhere. Tim could go back to his life, and all could be as it had been, but with a small addition...or two.

...but she had not yet told anyone that the plan had worked. She had not yet told anyone that they could leave. She had kept the success to herself for more than a week thus far. She told herself that it was because Tim needed more time to come to terms with the change she had wrought in him, the change she had forced on him. She told herself that it would be irresponsible and cruel just to leave without giving him time to adjust to the idea.

She told herself that it was because she had a responsibility to him. It wasn't because she didn't want to leave. It wasn't because of Tim himself, just because of what she owed him.

That was the only reason she was staying. That was the only reason why she hadn't told anyone.

The only reason...


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_One week later..._

The ring slipped off. It wasn't a big surprise. It was more of a surprise that it _hadn't_ slipped off before now. Tim had lost a lot of weight trapped on Sule Skerry. Seaweed and fish had a lot of nutrients in them, but still, Tim wasn't exactly living in the lap of luxury. He was also cold much of the time. The temperature never reached even 60 degrees for a daily high, and the lows in the night were still in the low forties...and he wouldn't go into the lighthouse. On the days when the rains came, it was even colder. So, Tim had adjusted to being slightly cold pretty much all the time, as his clothes got more and more ragged. At one point, he took one of the more ragged blankets and ripped holes to make himself a kind of poncho. It helped him fend off the cold winds. Another of the blankets was ripped into strips which he wound around his feet to give them some protection. Otherwise, he dealt with the cold, with the wind, with the rain...all with about the same degree of equanimity. The only part of his life that led to any kind of extreme was when the call of the sea became too much to resist. Other than that...he didn't seem to have those emotions in him anymore.

...which is what made his anguish over the lost ring all the more surprising...and his subsequent rage downright shocking.

When he'd discovered it was missing, he began searching. Nothing anyone could say or do would dissuade him...and Eira, at least, tried. He had never shown much attachment to it, not overtly. It was just something he kept.

There were so many burrows from the puffins, so many crags...so much ocean... It seemed ridiculous to imagine that he would be able to find it, but he continued to search...all day. Hours, he spent trying to find the ring he'd bought.

And then, in the afternoon, with clouds coming in and the wind picking up, he ran across the skerry, over to where a few of the selkies were talking and, without even pausing, he picked out which was Erlend and began yelling.

"It was you!" he shouted. "You took it from me! While I was sleeping! I know you did!"

Erlend removed his skin and stood before Tim, calm and poised where Tim was wild. Solid where Tim was wasting away. Erlend was taller by at least an inch and much more muscular. The difference between them was pitifully obvious, but Tim's anger, his emotion was so far and away beyond any amount of disdain the selkie might be able to feel that he actually took a step back.

"What good would any possession of yours do me, human?" Erlend asked.

"No good," Tim said. "But you would take it just because you could, just because you think you're so much better than I. ...because you resent that it takes someone like me to save your people while you just have to stand around and look down your nose at everyone!"

Erlend's face darkened. Tim knew he'd hit a sore spot, something that _did_ shame the selkie...and so he pressed on.

"What? Can't you do it yourself?" he asked mockingly. "You need a weak little _human_ to do what you selkie men can't? And so when you decide to show your macho side...you have to steal the only thing I own? _That's_ how you show your power? Is that it? Is it? Come on, Erlend, show me how strong you are. Show me what you can do that I can't. Or is it just because you can put on a second skin that you're better? I survive in only one way, with one form. You need two!"

Tim saw Eira come out of the water behind Erlend and the others. He didn't care. All he wanted was his ring back. He knew (without knowing how) that Erlend had taken it, and so he would keep pushing until he retrieved his property...not caring what else happened.

"You think I'm weak! You think I'm not worthy to be in this place! ...well, you're the weak one. You're the one who's lacking. _You're_ the one not worthy to be here because if you can't tolerate the presence of one human being, your kind doesn't _deserve_ to survive. Guess what, Erlend, there are a lot more of us than there are of you! _We_ don't have a problem making more!"

Then, Erlend surprised Tim...by punching him in the face. ...and Erlend _was_ strong. The punch caught him right in the cheek and knocked Tim to the ground, head reeling, body stunned.

"You are only _human_! If it were not for the selkie in your past, you would be dead! None would care if you _drowned_! I would lead you into the water myself..and good riddance to you!"

Then, Erlend bent over and pulled something from his skin on the ground. He smiled as he lifted Tim's ring and displayed it over Tim's supine body.

"If you want it, human, go and get it."

Then, Erlend turned and threw the ring as hard as he could...out into the sea. Tim saw the momentary flash, faintly heard Eira protest what Erlend was doing...and then, with the sea surging in his veins, Tim snapped.

He got clumsily to his feet, pulled the makeshift poncho off, and rushed at Erlend, taking _him_ by surprise this time. Tim got in a few good swings before Erlend began to fight back. Other selkies began to try to intervene, but Tim was not listening to reason. There was so much roaring in his ears that he couldn't hear anything but the thudding of his heart and the pounding waves. Anyone who tried to stop him was ignored.

Erlend was stronger. He had more skills. He was healthier. He didn't have the problem of that unsatisfied longing...but that longing was what gave Tim the surprising strength he had. It was the desperation he was learning to tamp down...but not to remove. It all came out in a whirl of arms and legs, punching and kicking. ...but his weakness finally lost out to Erlend's overwhelming strength. Erlend picked Tim up and literally threw him into the water. Not deep water, though. Tim landed hard on a rock, wind knocked out of him, gasping for breath, body aching, head swimming. ...and then a large wave broke over top of him, leaving him choking on the salty water.

Erlend leaned over him.

"You are weak, human. You are worthless."

Tim coughed weakly and then took a breath and forced himself to look up at the selkie man.

"Yeah, you're a real strong man...throwing a ring...tossing around a weak human. They'll be singing songs of your bravery."

Erlend kicked him and then walked away, Tim curled up in a fetal position, arms around his abdomen. Another wave broke over him and Tim began to shiver in the cold wind and the darkening skies. But he couldn't seem to move.

There was a warm hand on his cheek.

"Tim, are you all right? Why did you say those things?" Eira asked.

"He took...my ring...just because he could," Tim said, wincing. He didn't look up.

"But you knew you could not win against him."

"Doesn't matter...sometimes...you fight even if you're going to lose. The only fight I can fight...lately. The ones I lose."

"Can you get up?"

Tim tensed his muscles and then shook his head.

"Not by myself."

There was a silent pause and then other hands lifted him to his feet and supported him as he limped back toward the lighthouse.

"Not inside," he panted and sank to the ground beside his pile of blankets. The other selkies left Tim where he was and said nothing either for or against his actions. Eira helped Tim get under the blankets.

"It was foolish to speak to him so."

"Why? What do I have to lose?"

Eira's hand again caressed his cheek and he looked up at her.

"Perhaps you have nothing, but I think that is wrong. You have much to offer. You are not worthless."

Tim pulled himself painfully to a sitting position. "What do I have...besides the right DNA?"

Eira smiled. "Stay here. Rest. I will come back."

Not feeling he had a whole lot of choice in the matter, Tim fell back to the ground. He now hurt over every inch of his body, most especially his head. He groaned and laid where he was.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"When are we going to go to Tim's apartment?" Naomi asked. "We have to clean it out."

Sam nodded. "I can't get up there myself."

"We can make arrangements to get you to his floor. Sarah's already decided to come back home for the summer and stay with us. I think for her sake as much as for ours."

Sam sighed. "I almost wish they hadn't given me the rest of the semester off. All I can think about is Tim calling me and promising that he'd call...and I thought that would be enough until he came back." He took a deep breath. "...but it wasn't enough...and he's never coming back, Naomi."

Naomi sat down beside him and hugged Sam tightly.

"Sam...I haven't heard you quote a single person since the memorial service. Please...I need something now."

Sam blinked a few times, trying to hold back the tears, and then smiled and stroked Naomi's cheek.

"Erich Fromm. 'To spare oneself from grief at all cost can be achieved only at the price of total detachment, which excludes the ability to experience happiness.'"

"I'll try to remember it," she said. "Oh, Sam...how did it come to this? It happened so fast! How did we lose our son so easily?"

"I don't know. I wish I did...if I did...maybe I could have stopped it from happening."

Naomi smiled. "The funny thing is that...Tim didn't live in this house for long...but it seems so empty...knowing he's not coming back."

"Two months...and it feels like yesterday...and forever at the same time." Sam looked around the room and then down at his chair. "You know what? I'd give up everything...even my mobility...if Tim could just be found...alive and come back to us."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim actually fell asleep beneath the blankets. When he woke up, the rain had begun...and someone had secured the tarp over him.

_I must have really been out of it this time,_ he thought. How much time had passed since Eira had left him? He had no idea.

...but he felt the surging call of the sea and he sat up, staring toward the water. It was hard to see it in the wind and rain, but he knew it was there. Even if he'd been somehow struck blind and deaf, he would be able to feel it. ...and suddenly, for the first time in weeks, he thought of his father and he thought of a quote...one Sam had said once in his darker moments.

"'Anything, anything would be better than this agony of mind, this creeping pain that gnaws and fumbles and caresses one and never hurts quite enough.' Jean-Paul Sartre," Tim whispered.

Then, he saw a number of gray shapes climbing up out of the sea and they came toward him, one shedding her skin and stand up, walking through the rain with no discomfort. Tim envied her.

She knelt down in front of him and held out her closed hand.

Tim looked at her curiously. She simply smiled playfully and nodded at him. He peeled back her fingers and saw...

"...you found it."

She nodded.

"How?"

"It was a game to the seals once they understood what I was looking for," she said. "And they like you."

Tim looked at her and then at the seals arrayed around her.

"Thank you."

He started to put it on, but she stopped him. Instead, she picked up his hand and slid it onto his finger. Tim looked at it and laughed.

"What is so funny?" she asked.

"You put it on my left ring finger."

"Yes? It is larger than others. Less likely to come off."

"It's also the finger people wear rings on to show that they're married."

She looked rather uncomfortable. "Oh...I am sorry. I will..."

"No...leave it."

"Tim..."

"Leave it."

"You know that..."

Tim put his left hand to her lips and shook his head.

"Don't. Don't say it. Let me pretend for a while that you really care about me, that this is real...that it's not just about keeping me sane and saving your people. Let me pretend that this means something more." He closed his eyes and clenched his fist, trying to stave off the shaking. "Let me pretend...that it's love."

She looked at the seals and they headed toward their usual shelter from the storm. She climbed under the tarp, under the blankets and let Tim hold her.

"I would like to pretend, too, Tim," she said very softly.

"Then, we'll pretend."

"Would you like to pretend right now?"

"Yes."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Tim became ill again, but this time, it seemed to have a genuine physical cause. Something bad he ate...or else his body had finally realized just _what_ Tim had been feeding it and had decided that it wasn't what it wanted.

Either way, Tim was violently ill for three days. Anything he tried to eat didn't stay down long enough to do him any good. In the end, they used some of the precious kerosene and boiled the fish in water, making a broth that would at least have some of the nutrients of the fish, something that Tim could possibly use to keep his body functioning. His strength and energy melted away. The only positive thing about those three days is that he was too weak to feel the sea inside him. Too weak to do anything but resist being taken into the lighthouse for shelter.

Eira stayed with him through those three days, not leaving his side even once. Others brought her food instead.

After those three days, it took another four before Tim had strength enough to get up again. When he finally started eating again, they made him eat the boiled fish, thinking that it would be easier on his stomach than the raw. He managed to choke it down, the first cooked _anything_ he'd had in weeks. It was almost a delicacy to eat a boiled fish...and a fish that was not only boiled but boiled so long that it was nearly falling apart. At least it was easy to pick out the bones.

Daytime temperatures began hitting the yearly average high of 60 degrees and, when the sun was out, it felt nice and so they stopped trying to get him to go into the lighthouse, instead, insisting that he sit in the place with the most sun.

As he recovered, Tim noticed that Erlend was gone again...and that the other selkies seemed to have found a degree of respect for him. He found that he was mostly amused by that...not happy, relieved or anything else. Act like a child and get respect. Bear things stoically and be considered strange.

...but his weakness worried him more than anything else. It was clear that his body wasn't going to quickly recover from this latest illness. This simply wasn't the environment for it. Each illness took him lower and lower...and he never quite got back to normal.

...and the other thing was that it reiterated the fact that he was not and never would be a selkie in anything but spirit. He shivered all through the night while the seals and selkies felt like organic furnaces.

He lay on his blanket, watching the puffins (and there were loads of them on the island now...he tried to make sure he didn't accidentally step on a burrow or bother them in any way), feeling the sun.

...and wondering what he could possibly have to look forward to in the near future.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim's apartment wasn't large, but he had managed to fill the space very well. The tall bookshelves were used as divisions between the book/record world and the computer world. Then, his bedroom, with his clothes...again, neatly organized. Tim wasn't a clothes horse by any means, but he had a fair amount...and he didn't seem to have been inclined to get rid of anything until it was totally worn out.

There were currently six people in the apartment: Sam, Naomi, Tony, Ziva, Abby and Jimmy. Sam had been lifted up the stairs, wheelchair and all, by Jimmy and Tony. He and Naomi were in Tim's bedroom, trying to decide what to do with their son's clothing. The others were packing his things in boxes. There was so much _stuff_ there that Sam and Naomi had decided just to pack it all back to Ohio with them and they'd decide what to do with it later.

They had also told everyone that they could take something as a keepsake if they wanted to do so. Tim wouldn't have minded.

So as they packed books in boxes, untangled what seemed like miles of wire, and listened to Tim's record collection, they looked at what summed up his life and tried to decide how best they could preserve some memory of it.

"Hey! Look at this!" Tony said with a laugh.

"What?" Abby asked.

"It's the CD I brought him from Germany! The Best of David Hasselhoff! I didn't think he'd actually _keep_ it. It looks like he even _opened_ it. Man, what if he was a secret Hasselhoff fan?" Tony laughed but then had to clear his throat as he set the CD in a box. ...and then took it out again, looked at it, and said softly, "I'll take this."

Abby had already claimed her keepsake: one of Tim's MIT shirts. It was neatly folded and lying on the counter.

"This is so depressing," Jimmy said, staring at the shelves that were slowly being emptied. "I mean...it's just...wrong that we're doing this...clearing out all these things that were important to McGee. He kept it all for a reason, and now...we're helping decide what to keep and what to get rid of."

Ziva, kneeling on the ground, resolutely filling a box with books, did not look up as she answered Jimmy's unspoken question.

"He will not care. McGee is not...coming back and he will not miss these things," she said in a rough voice. "...but if he does, I will gladly return what I take."

"What are you taking?"

Ziva looked up and smiled, but there were tears in her eyes. "His Harry Potter books. What about you, Jimmy?"

"His Miles Davis record."

"What about Gibbs and Ducky?" Abby asked.

"They'll come later on," Tony said without hesitation. "Probably just don't want us to see what they take. Ducky _did_ swipe my stapler when you guys thought _I _was dead."

They all laughed...but it was half-hearted at best. Clearing out the belongings of a dead friend was not the best place to have a laugh.

...but they did find reasons to laugh. The laugh always had some pain attached to it, but still there were moments. ...like when they found that Tim had a copy of a book called _Movie Megacheese_ by Michael J. Nelson...or when one of the records in Tim's collection turned out to be a reading of a children's book called _Little Black Sambo_, a story in which the culminating action was a number of tigers running around in a circle until they turned into butter. These things gave them a moment of levity, realizing that Tim had hidden facets they had never seen. It was like discovering a hidden treasure...and they wished they could ask him about these things, these little insights.

Then, Abby was tasked with breaking into Tim's computer and finding what he had on it...and she found Tim's personal playlists...beyond the jazz. One of the lists was entitled "Songs for bad days"...and a hidden treasure trove: playlists all listed as "Songs inspired by..." There was one for Tony, Ziva, Abby, Jimmy, Ducky, even Gibbs. There was also a list for Kate. They had fun looking at the songs Tim had chosen, some of which were totally wrong, but all the more fun for that...and he had a much larger music collection than any of them had realized.

And it was both wonderful and tragic to find that they were getting to know Tim so well.

...now that it was too late.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_One week later..._

She would not be able to hide it for much longer. She knew that. Soon enough, the others would realize that she was pregnant and they would know that it was time to leave.

She was determined to leave on _her_ terms, however, not theirs.

...and she looked at Tim as he slept beside her. How could she say good-bye and get him to understand? She could see it in his eyes every time he looked at her. While he had said he was pretending, it wasn't much of a pretense. ...not on either side...and that would not help either of them. They had to say good-bye. She knew it, and Tim would know it, too.

...but _could_ he say good-bye?

Today had been one of his bad days, and in his weakened condition, the bad days were worse than before. Not that Tim was more manic but that the desperation took more out of him, caused him more pain. He had slept out of sheer exhaustion from fighting against the selkie nature she had awakened in him.

As she looked at him, she regretted the necessity that had driven her...and the knowledge that she could not have changed anything she had done. The decision had been made and it would be the way things had to be.

Tim shuddered, his left hand, the one with the ring, flailed around, seeking something. Gently, she took his hand and kissed it. His fingers tightened around hers for a moment and then he relaxed, never awakening.

He never talked about leaving anymore. He never talked about his family, his friends. In fact, since his last illness, he hadn't spoken much at all. In fact, his communication was becoming more selkie-like by the day. He only had to _look_ at her and she knew what he was feeling.

...and soon, she would have to get him to give all that up and return to the human world. ...and somehow fit back into it.

_What have I done to you?_

Yes, the line had been saved, but at what cost? This was something she had never considered.

A selkie came and lifted the blanket. He looked at her and she nodded, easily disentangling herself from Tim's grasp. He didn't stir.

Then, she followed him to a gathering on the far side of the island, on the rocks, away from the puffin burrows.

None of them spoke, waiting for her to confess what she had hidden.

"Yes," she said simply.

"How long have you known?"

"A month, at least."

"Why did you not tell us?"

"I could not leave and you would have insisted."

"We must leave. It is time. We cannot be here when the humans come."

"He is not ready to leave," she said.

"He will never be ready to leave...but the longer you wait, the harder it will be."

"We cannot leave until we are certain he will be rescued."

There was a soft sound of disgust. She turned toward it.

"Erlend, you disgrace us all with your attitude."

He stood. "You have been too much with the human. You are using names."

"You are worse than any human and you do not deserve to be a selkie," she shot back. "From the beginning, you have been cruel beyond anything I would have expected of you. I will not abandon one who has played a large part in saving us all. I cannot believe that you would even consider it no matter your personal feelings."

The silence was stinging and he dropped his head, chastened...not by her words but by the silence of the others.

She looked around. "I carry not one, but two."

A murmur.

"Yes, and I agree that we must leave, but we must first ensure that he will have a chance to return to his own kind."

"What kind is that?" one asked. "We have cast him between two worlds. In which does he now belong?"

"In the only one he _can_...the human world. Our world is not one he can live in."

"Can he truly live as a human being now?"

"Given time.

"How will we guarantee his rescue?"

She smiled. "We will send another message."

"Who will hear it? Who _can _hear it and believe it?"

"There is one who may hear."

"Who?"

"More of the line lives than Tim."

"Do you have strength for it?"

"If I have help."

"Will once be enough?"

"I do not think it will. There will have to be repeated sendings over days in order for him to believe."

"Do we begin now?"

"Yes."

The selkies came together in a circle around her, each placing a hand on her shoulders. She raised her hands above her head, closed her eyes and focused her strength, not on the sleeping man whose mind was so easily touched, but on another man, a man far away, across the sea, a man whose mind was open but quieter.

When the sending was complete, she nearly fell to the ground and had to be caught.

"Can you do this with them inside you?"

She nodded. "Yes. It does not take strength from them. The message has been sent. We will do so again tomorrow."

"Will you tell him?"

She looked back where Tim was sleeping...and shook her head.

"Not yet. He will resist what must be."

"And you?"

She looked at the one who had spoken and drew herself up straight and tall.

"I know what must be and I have not forgotten. I have never forgotten. While I may regret what cannot be, I have not blinded myself. He, in his weakness, has forgotten. ...our parting will be painful and I do not want it to be lengthened."

"And now?"

She smiled, but sadly this time. "Now, I will return to him."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_Three days later..._

He was wiped out by the latest surge. Not even her comforting presence had helped him this time. It was ebbing now and he was looking at the ocean with longing but without compulsion. A few of the seals came and settled around him, sunning themselves...and lending their body heat to him. Tim smiled. It was strange, but he recognized the individual seals. He knew them now. Just as he knew the selkies by their appearance, he knew the seals and he knew which ones always lay by him.

All in all, this was about as good as he ever felt. A wish to be where he couldn't be, but feeling almost warm, knowing there were a few beings who did care for him...even if it was only in the way an especially intelligent pet might...like Jethro had. ...that was the first time Tim had thought of the outside world in a long time...and he pushed the thought away, choosing to return to the empty, emotionless balance he had achieved.

The kerosene was gone now...which meant back to the raw fish, but those few days of cooked fish had been rather nice. Bland but nice. Unlike his seal and selkie companions, Tim couldn't just swallow the fish whole and let his stomach sort it out. He had to chew...and no matter how used to it he was at this point, he still didn't care much for it.

One of his more eager seal friends came to him with a fish in its mouth, clearly pleased at having brought him something before the selkies did. Tim smiled and took the fish...not really wanting it at the moment but eating it just to make the seal happy. He finished about half the fish before the seal lay down and began sunning with the others. ...and Tim set down the remains of the fish, happy not to eat all of it. Then, he lay down himself and stared up at the few clouds in the sky.

He must have dozed off because suddenly, the seals (and their warmth) were gone and she was standing above him.

"Tim, we must talk now."

Tim shaded his eyes.

"We must talk."

He sat up. "You say my name a lot now."

"And you say very little at all."

"What's the change?"

"I am reminding you who you are."

"Names don't matter."

"For humans, they do...and you are a human, Tim," she said seriously and sat down beside him. "And we must talk about that."

"What?"

Gently, she took Tim's left hand and placed it on her abdomen.

"Do you feel them?"

"Them?"

"Yes. Two. It is done."

"You've known for how long?"

"A month. More than a month."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was not time."

"Now what?" he asked.

"Now...we must leave, before humans come to count the birds. We are never sure of the time they will come, but we cannot let them see us."

"...and who is we?"

"All of us...but not together. The seals are moving to another space and we, the selkies, go with them."

"And me?"

"You must go back."

"I can't!" Tim protested, finally showing some emotion. "I can't go back to what I was, to who I was! You've changed me too much! I need you to help me...when I can't fight it!"

"You will learn to fight it yourself...and when you are separated from us...it will fade."

"How can you know that?"

"We do. We know it. We did not..._I_ did not know what the sea would do to you, but I do know that it will not get better if you stay...and you cannot stay! You grow weak from the food that sustains us. You are sick. You cannot get what you need like this. You cannot see yourself, but I see you and I see one who is slowing wasting away. You must go back and join your own kind."

"My _kind_? Do you know a lot of other selkie-souled...human beings out there? You can't leave me here!"

She stroked his cheek. "I will not leave until we are sure of rescue. We have taken steps to ensure it, but we will wait until we know that people will come."

"I'm not ready!" Tim said. "I...I..."

"Your family and your friends will be happy to see you. Will you not be happy to see them?"

Feeling suddenly almost afraid, Tim got to his feet and began to pace, his hands occasionally clenching to fists and then relaxing again.

"I...don't know. I don't know what I..." He turned to her. "All I know is that...I...I need you."

"You cannot _have_ me any longer, Tim. You have known from the beginning that you could not have me."

"But I didn't know about this!"

Squaring her shoulders, she held out her skin.

"What would you do, Tim? Would you take my skin from me? Would you hide it or destroy it and trap me on land? Would you have me feel the same agony that you have felt? Would you have all the sacrifices you have made be for naught because I am trapped here as a human being? Will you destroy who I am?"

Tim looked at the skin she held out.

"That's what you've done to me," he said softly.

"I hope that you are not destroyed. I hope that you will recover...but I know that you can_not_ recover if you stay. I must leave. I must go with the others and I must raise my children and help restore my kind."

"_Your_ children?"

"Yes. Mine. Though they come from you as well, they must be selkies."

"I thought they had a choice."

"When they are born on the land, yes. When they are born in the sea, they are born as selkies."

"You didn't say that before."

"No. I did not."

"So...these children...I'll never see them," Tim said carefully.

"No. It is not likely."

"And you?"

"You must not see me either. It will cause more pain than it would joy. We must go to our own worlds and live as we must."

"I can't live...not with how I feel. I can't be what I was before."

"That is true. You will be changed, but it does not have to be only pain. I am grateful for what you have given."

"What you've _taken_," Tim corrected.

"Yes. I have taken, but you have also given." Again, she held out the skin. "Will you also take now? Remember what I told you. I can never love anything as I love the sea. For you that is a source of pain because you cannot satisfy it. For me, it _is_ love, and the pain I would feel from that separation would be infinitely worse than what you feel...because it _is_ my world and always has been. For you, it is an uneasy graft that can be eased with distance."

"And how much more pain will I feel...while that _easing_ happens?"

"I do not know, Tim. I _am_ sorry for this pain you feel, but I cannot, even now, think of how I would change what I have done. My children will be selkies and if I can protect them until they can protect themselves, I will have succeeded."

"They'll be my children, too...even if I can't ever see them. Don't...forget what I gave up."

She set her skin on the ground and took Tim's calloused bony hands in hers.

"I will never forget you, Tim. Not ever. ...and when they are old enough to understand, I will tell them who you are." She smiled sadly. "Perhaps we will think of another song, another selkie tale to add to those which already exist."

Tim managed a smile...but only just. "It won't be a happy one."

"None of them are," she said. "None of the tales of selkies and humans are ever happy."

Tim looked at the ground...and at the skin lying at her feet. She did not move, did not speak. She just stood quietly.

"Eira?"

"You have not said my name in days."

"It's not your name."

Eira lifted Tim's face to hers. "For you, Tim, it will always be my name."

"Can we pretend? One last time? Can we pretend that...that it's real?"

Eira didn't answer.

"It's going to hurt anyway. Let me have one more time when I can imagine that there's something good in all this pain."

Eira stood silently, not speaking, but Tim looked into her eyes...and he understood. Together, they walked to an empty space on Sule Skerry.

...and they pretended they were in love.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_A woman stood beside him...and he was standing himself. They stood together on a small island, one covered with small birds. As if he was zooming in on the scene from a far distance, he suddenly saw a man, thin with a scruffy almost-beard, sitting alone in the sun. He was staring off into the distance. He looked familiar, but so skinny...so seemingly weak. Could he even be alive?_

_Then, the woman looked at him and began to sing, her dark eyes drawing him into the song...as if it was truth._

"_Upon the skerry is thy son;  
><em>_upon the skerry lieth he.  
><em>_Sin thou would see thine ain young son,  
><em>_now is the time tae speak wi' he." _

Sam opened his eyes, breathing heavily...as if he'd just finished a race...and his mind whirled, the echoes of the strange lilting tune gradually fading away. This was the third night in a row that he'd had this dream. The exact same dream. ...and what was that song?

"Naomi?" he whispered.

She rolled over.

"What is it, Sam?"

"What's a skerry?"

"A what?"

"A skerry."

"Something frightening?" she mumbled.

"No...Naomi, I'm serious."

She took a deep breath and looked at him curiously.

"What's going on?"

"I had a dream."

Now, her eyes opened wide. "A dream?"

"Yeah...remember how Tim told me he was singing a song in his sleep?"

"Yes."

"I've been hearing a song...and it's not one that I know...like Tim said. I wish I'd thought to ask him what the song was."

"What does this have to do with knowing what a skerry is?"

"It was in the song." Now, Sam sat up and pulled himself into his chair.

"Sam, it's three in the morning!"

"Yes, and it's the third time I've had the same dream, the same song...like Tim was."

He heard Naomi get out of bed and follow him. Sarah was sleeping upstairs and they didn't want to wake her. She'd been sleeping badly ever since the memorial service. Not dreams so far as they knew, but she was grieving for the loss of her big brother.

Sam quickly and quietly rolled into the study and booted up the computer.

"Sam, what's in the dream?"

"I'm standing beside a woman on an island...with a lighthouse. There are all these birds...and then a man, all alone. I think it's Tim...but the only part of him I recognize are his eyes. They're always looking into the distance...not at me, not at anything. And then, the woman starts to sing to me."

"What does she sing?"

"I can't remember all the words...something about my son being on the skerry."

Naomi sat down.

"Sam..."

"I can't explain it, Naomi...any more than Tim could. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's wishful thinking, but I have to check. I have to try to understand where this is coming from."

"All right. Let's see what it is."

Sam opened the Internet browser and typed in "skerry". The first entry was to Wikipedia (typical). He clicked on it.

"An island usually too small for habitation. A list of skerries." He clicked the link. "Ireland...Canada...Wales...Scotland..." He looked at Naomi and then back at the screen. "Sule Skerry, Skerryvore, the Orkney Islands."

He went to the Orkney entry and started scrolling through the list of islands. Naomi didn't protest. He could tell that she wanted this to be _something_ and not just a dream.

"Auskerry...no, that's inhabited. If someone was living there, they would have seen him and the island I saw was empty. Muckle Skerry. That has a lighthouse. It's uninhabited...in the south part of Orkney." He made a note. As he searched, he made a list of the various skerries that _didn't_ have entries and then he noticed something. "Hey, Sule Skerry is listed as being a part of Orkney, too." He clicked the link. "There's apparently a lighthouse there...and it's a breeding site for puffins and gannets. ...but it's over 40 miles west of the Mainland."

He sat back and stared at the screen.

"What are you going to do, Sam?"

"I'm...going to go back to bed, go to sleep, I hope, and then in the morning...I'm going to call that Isobel Munro at the bed and breakfast Tim stayed at...and I'm going to ask her if it would be possible to check these places."

"What will you tell her?"

"The truth. I had a dream. I heard a song."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_One day later..._

Isobel heard the phone and she ran inside, worried that she'd miss it. It clicked over to the answering machine right as she got there, but she managed to turn off the answering machine and answer it herself.

"Munros' Bed and Breakfast. This is Isobel."

"_Ms. Munro...this is Sam McGee. Do you remember me?"_

"Oh, of course, Mr. McGee. Of course, I remember. People still call to see if we've found anything. Every day."

"_I have a rather strange request to make of you."_

"If I can do it, Mr. McGee, I'll be more than happy to."

"_Could you tell me if all the skerries were searched?"_

"The skerries? No, not all. Some of them are so small that they're flooded over every time the tide comes in." She hesitated. "Mr. McGee...I don't mean to sound negative, but..."

"_I know. It's been three months, but I had a dream...and there was a song in it about finding my son on the skerry."_

"Do you mean the 'The Great Selchie o' Sule Skerry'?"

"_I don't know. I don't know the song...but there's a song about Sule Skerry?"_

"Oh, yes. It's one of our more famous stories. One of the verses talks about the great selkie taking his young son to Sule Skerry where he lives, and the mother must speak to her son before he goes. In fact, your son asked me to sing the song for him, and he sang it himself in his sleep that night."

"_He did?"_

"Yes...why?"

"_Was Sule Skerry searched?"_

"I don't believe it was. With where the boat was found, there's no way it could have been back that far west."

His voice became extremely earnest. _"Ms. Munro, I...am going to risk you thinking I'm crazy, but is there any way that someone...your husband or someone could go and see if Tim is on Sule Skerry? I had this dream multiple times, the same one and I think it's telling me that Tim is there. He was alive in my dream...but if he's there at all..."_

Isobel was silent for a moment but not because she didn't believe him. It was because of the old tales.

"Mr. McGee...does anyone in your ancestry hale from Orkney?"

"_Not to my knowledge, why?"_

"We have stories...about families with selkies in their past. It seems ridiculous, of course, but we've had a few people who were...connected to the world in strange ways. What you say seems crazy, but I will get my Patrick to go and check. I don't think you should get your hopes up."

"_It's not strong enough to be hope. It's a desperate wish for knowledge...but if you need me to pay for the fuel for the boat or for anything else, I will."_

"No. I couldn't! Your son vanished while my guest. I owe you a great deal."

"_No, you don't, but I will be forever in your debt if you can do this for me."_

"As soon as I hang up the phone, I'll call him. Could I get your number so that I can call you when I know?"

"_Yes. Thank you...thank you so much."_

"It will be my pleasure...if I can give you something to celebrate, but..."

"_You don't think it's likely. Logically...I don't either...but since I had the dream..."_

"I understand. I'll call." She wrote down the number and then hung up. For a moment, she hesitated, fearing that the McGees would build up their hopes only to have to completely dashed again. ...but he had begged her to do this and she couldn't say no.

After a few seconds, she called her husband.

"Patrick...you won't believe who just called and what he wanted..."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_One day later..._

Tim woke up with a start, feeling as though Sule Skerry was empty. He sat up and looked around, knocking the blankets off himself and Eira. She awakened as well and took Tim's hand before he could stand.

"Do not go," she said softly.

"Where is everyone?"

"Preparing to leave. There was a call this morning. They are coming to Sule Skerry."

Tim looked at her with frightened eyes.

"I must leave now, Tim."

Tim took her hand. "Please, don't leave."

"Even if I did not have an obligation to leave...still I would have to leave. I cannot stay forever."

"I know," Tim said. "I know."

Eira stood up and held out her hand. Tim allowed her to help him up. She kept hold of his hand, her fingers playing idly over the ring on his finger, as she led him to the ocean. She stopped and looked out.

The seals gathered on the edge, jumping a little. Tim smiled and then looked away.

"It is time to say good-bye, Tim."

Tim hugged her tightly. "Eira..."

"We cannot pretend any longer, Tim. It is time to go back to reality. You must let me go."

"I can't."

"You can. You must."

"Don't leave."

Eira pulled away from Tim. He didn't really try to hold on, but he wouldn't look at her.

"They will come for you today, Tim. You will go back to your world. I will remember you...but it may be best if you forget me."

Tim looked at her. "I won't."

For the first time, a tear appeared in Eira's eye as she smiled. "I know. Good-bye, Tim."

"Good-bye."

Eira turned, pulled on her skin and fled into the sea.

"EIRA!" Tim shouted after her. "EIRA!"

None of the seals or selkies paused. They swam out and away from the island. Tim watched them go and then sank to his knees. He stared after them until he couldn't differentiate between their swimming and the ocean waves. Only then, did he fall forward, grabbing his shaggy hair in his hands. After a few moments, he let out an almost-bestial shout. It startled the puffins in earshot, but it wasn't repeated. Instead, he sobbed. He cried soul-shattering tears and curled into a fetal position, his arms over his head as he tried to stave off the exquisite pain.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"All right, Patrick. Tell me why we're going to look at a place where he couldn't possibly be to see if he's there and still alive. It's a waste of time!"

Patrick checked the instruments and changed course slightly. Then, he looked at his companions.

"Because, Michael, a grieving father called and begged for a favor. How many times have we seen people lost to the sea? How many times have we seen families grieve and grasp at any distant hope...even though they know it's not possible? It costs us nothing but time to come out here and look at Sule Skerry."

"He couldn't be there," Michael protested. "The boat was found on North Ronaldsay! The currents don't work like that, Patrick!"

"They don't. I know. ...but it doesn't matter. We will go and we will look. I'll pay you for your time if you feel that searching is a waste of it."

Michael muttered something about not meaning he was asking for pay. Patrick smiled and returned his attention to the distant skerry. The third man, Gregor, was out on the prow, watching for the first sign of the island. He had his binoculars. ...but then, he was young and had less experience with these things. When he had asked for volunteers in the pub, Gregor had been first to jump at the chance. Michael and Sigur were experienced seamen, fishers, and were willing to go along with their long-time friend, even if it was on a pointless quest. If Timothy McGee _had_ ended up on Sule Skerry by some miracle, what they were likely to find would not be pretty. Three months on a cold, rocky, uninhabited island? Not easy for any man to bear...still less for a man who had wandered out in the middle of the night, dressed in almost nothing.

No, Patrick didn't expect to find anything, and if they did find something, he didn't expect it to be good. ...but Isobel had asked him to go and he knew that grief often needed facts to help it progress. So he was going and he would be thorough. They all would...and they'd come back and...

"Patrick! I see something!" Gregor shouted.

"What do you see, Gregor?"

"It..." He came running back to the wheelhouse. "It looks like a man!"

Patrick looked at him. "You mean _alive_?"

Gregor nodded. "He's standing!"

"It can't be," Sigur said. "You're imagining things, lad."

"Look for yourself, Sigur," Gregor said, thrusting the binoculars at him...and then grinned. "...if your old eyes can see that far."

Sigur glared and took the binoculars with him to the prow. He lifted them.

"I see nothing."

"Look on the west side!"

Gregor physically turned Sigur in the right direction.

"Can't you see him?"

Sigur was silent for a moment and then he swore in shock.

"There _is_ a man there! Walking about!"

"Maybe it's a ghost," Michael said. "No man could live there."

"Maybe it's a selkie," Gregor said with a grin. "Then, he could run and put on his skin and swim away any time he wanted."

Sigur was less flippant. As they came closer, he could see more detail. "If that's a selkie, he's on his last legs, I think. That's not a healthy man standing there."

The others sobered and the rest of the distance was covered in silence. When they reached Sule Skerry, the man had seated himself on the ground and was facing away from them. They had tried shouting but he had not acknowledged them at all. Either he couldn't hear them or he was pretending for some odd reason.

There was no way to get close enough to the island to just step onto it. No dock any longer, and the sea was chancy around the skerry. They had to get an inflatable and motor over. Michael stayed aboard Patrick's boat and the other three went to Sule Skerry. They hurried over to the man.

"Hey," Gregor said as they reached him.

He turned slowly, very slowly and stared at them without speaking a word. He was almost frightening to see. He was very skinny, weathered, wearing what looked like the remnants of a blanket and holey sweats. His hair was long and shaggy. He had a scraggily almost-beard. His feet were bare and showed innumerable scratches and cuts and heavy callouses. His face, though, was the worst. He looked haunted. There was no other word to describe the look in his eyes as he stared with large green eyes that seemed ready to pop out of their sockets.

Sigur knelt down. "What's your name, lad?"

His mouth worked soundlessly for a while.

"Your name?" he repeated gently.

"Names...don't matter," the man whispered.

"What's your name?"

"Is it Tim McGee?" Patrick asked.

Tim's large eyes moved from Sigur to Patrick and there was a glimmer of recognition in them.

"You...Munro..." he said, haltingly.

"Yes. Patrick Munro. Timothy McGee?"

The man looked down at himself and then up at the three men.

"I'm Timothy McGee," he said, almost in wonder.

Patrick let out a disbelieving laugh. He didn't recognize the man who had stayed at his inn, but he didn't think he'd recognize his own son in this state.

"I can't believe you're alive," he said.

Tim looked around the island and then back at the men again. "I can't, either."

"Are you ready to leave?"

Tim surprised them by shaking his head.

"Is there anything you need to get?"

Again, just that head shake.

"Gregor, go up to the lighthouse. It looks like the door is open."

"Nothing in there," Tim said in a vague tone. "I never go in there."

Sigur and Patrick exchanged concerned glances. Whatever else was wrong with Tim, it was clear that his mind was confused at best. Gregor ran to the lighthouse and came out.

"Empty kerosene containers, looks like someone was in here."

"Got blankets...but used them out here."

Sigur looked at the old shelters, also unused...mostly.

"Made a few fires, I see."

"Cold," Tim said.

"I'm sure of that. Any other people here with you?"

"No...no people."

"How did you get here?" Patrick asked.

Tim looked off into the distance. "Boat capsized...Tipped over. A big storm. Swam to the island...saw the lighthouse." Then, he closed his eyes and began to hum. All the men recognized the tune.

"Where's my head," Sigur said suddenly. "We can ask you questions later. Now, it's time to go, Mr. McGee."

"Tim."

"All right, Tim. Let's go."

They watched as Tim stood on his spindly legs, his feet clearly accustomed to being bare, and walked with them.

"We'll have to tell the bird counters that their supplies went to good use," Gregor said in a false light tone. He was clearly appalled at Tim's state.

They helped him get into the inflatable. It was as if he wasn't really there. He just stared at Sule Skerry as they headed back to the boat.

"What did you eat there?" Gregor asked.

"Fish...seaweed."

"Did you have enough fuel for that?"

"Raw. Ate it raw...except when I got sick. I boiled it...but that used up the rest of the kerosene."

Raw fish and seaweed.

"You must be hungry," Patrick said.

Tim shook his head.

"Thirsty?"

Another shake.

They got him onto the boat and led him to a sheltered spot. Sigur forcibly sat Tim down on the boat's only berth while Michael stared in shock at him. Tim didn't seem to notice.

"Here, lad. Have a drink," Sigur said, handing him a canteen.

Tim looked at it for a moment and then grabbed it with surprising quickness and began drinking so fast that he started to choke on it. Sigur took the canteen back.

"Slowly, lad. Drink it slowly."

This time, he kept a hold of the canteen and when Tim tried to drink too quickly again, he controlled the water-flow.

"All right, that's enough for now. Fish and seaweed...I don't know that we have anything your body could tolerate right now. You cold?"

Another head shake. It seemed to be the only thing he could do. ...so Gregor got one of the thermal blankets and wrapped it around Tim. Instantly, it seemed, he began to shiver and pant a little.

"Here, lad. Lie down and rest yourself. We've got a few hours trip back to Kirkwall. You'll be needing a doctor, I think."

Tim lay down without speaking, but he pulled the blanket tightly around himself, shaking...as if he'd suddenly remembered that he was freezing.

"Gregor, get some of the heating pads. Help him warm up."

Gregor nodded and turned away from Tim to get the first aid kit. Tim's breathing began to get erratic...and then, before any of them were ready, he threw off the blanket and flung himself toward the edge of the boat, almost into the sea. Only Michael's fast reflexes kept their passenger from falling into the sea. He didn't shout, but he struggled to get away...and he began to mumble.

"Have...to...let go...sea...go to...help...stop the..." He began to cry and he sagged in Michael's arms. "To...the sea...have to..."

"Poor man," Sigur said as he hurried to help Michael with the dead weight. "To be there all alone for so long. The sea must have felt like his prison."

They pulled Tim back to the berth and forced him down. Tim struggled weakly but he seemed to have used up all his energy in his one bid for the sea.

"Let...go...have to get..." He started to shiver violently and curled into a fetal position.

"Gregor!"

Gregor brought the heating pads over and put them under the blanket. Tim closed his eyes and shook. The words faded, but his body was incredibly tense and he was nearly hyperventilating. Gregor looked at the others, at a loss of what to do.

It was Sigur, the eldest of them all, who took action. It would have seemed strange to those who knew him as one of the grizzled fishermen who seemed to have lost any trace of softness to years of the sea wind.

He sat down on the berth and lifted Tim up so that he could lay the young man's head in his lap. Then, he began to speak softly to him while gently stroking his head.

"It's all right, lad. You're safe now. You can relax. Whatever nightmare you're facing, let it go and sleep. We'll get you back to your home. All is well now. All is well."

He kept up the soft words until Tim's body relaxed and he truly fell asleep. Gregor was staring at him with wide eyes and when Sigur noticed he smiled.

"A man in shock needs to feel safe. Doesn't matter who does it. When you've had more experience, lad, you'll understand."

Gregor flushed and looked back behind them at the island which was swiftly disappearing from view. Soon, even the lighthouse would be out of sight.

"What could do this to him?"

"Don't know. Maybe a lot, maybe nothing...maybe just being alone on an island for weeks without any hope of being found," Michael said. "People lost at sea have troubles we fortunate never know."

"Should I call it in?"

"No," Patrick said.

"Why not? His family will want to know!"

"And what'll we tell them at this point?" Patrick asked. "That we found their son only to almost lose him when he tried to jump out of the boat? That he barely spoke two words together that made sense? That he looks more like a bag of bones than a human being? No. We wait until we get him to the hospital and let the doctors look at him. Then, we'll call and tell them about their son. I don't want to jump the gun here."

Gregor looked slightly rebellious but he nodded. Michael and Sigur let Patrick's decision stand without comment. Sigur just sat on the berth and kept Tim as relaxed as possible. Through the five-hour trip back to Kirkwall, Tim would occasionally tense up and start mumbling. That was the cue to be ready. Twice more, he struggled to get up but never made it beyond that...and he never really regained consciousness, either.

When they reached the waters between Shapinsay and Mainland, Patrick called on the radio to let them know that Tim had been found and needed transportation to the hospital. It only gave the Harbour Master about 20 minutes to get something organized.

He needed five minutes to find an available truck. Yes, they could get an ambulance, but when Inga was right there and had a truck available...and was more than willing to be party to an amazing and miraculous rescue...

Tim was taken straight to Balfour Hospital and checked in. He had one more episode of trying to get away and then he sank back into sleep. Patrick stayed until Dr. Sinclair came out and told him Tim's current status. He noted it all down and then called his wife.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was late afternoon when the phone rang. Sam had just hung up with the dean of the English department, unsuccessfully asking to be allowed to teach in the upcoming summer semester. He had tried to argue that he needed to have something to fill the time. But no. Not this time. He could teach in the fall but he was to take the summer off. They'd already lined up people to take his usual class.

"You want to get it, Sam?" Naomi asked.

"No. You answer it. If it's Fred tell him I'll only talk to him if he lets me teach."

Naomi laughed a little and answered. "McGees'."

"_Hello, Mrs. McGee?"_

The accent made her pause. "Is this...Isobel Munro?"

"_Yes, it is."_

"Sam!" Naomi said, more sharply than she'd intended. Sam looked at her and then picked up the extension.

"_We've found your son. Alive."_

"What?"

"_Tim is alive. He was on Sule Skerry. Your son is alive."_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Gibbs wasn't expecting a phone call. He'd taken a day off...nearly giving HR a heart attack. He was working on his boat, but he was also mulling over a lot of things. In the background, he had the playlist Tim had made up about him playing. They'd actually all taken copies of all the playlists. Of course, he had needed Abby to show him how to play them, but now, he had it going, interested in Tim's perception of him expressed in music. ...and it was a mass of contradictions. Strangely raucous songs, followed by military-style anthems, followed by a couple of very gentle songs that made Gibbs wonder just how he had inspired Tim to include them.

Then, his phone rang. He thought about ignoring it. He didn't want to talk to anyone today. He _really_ didn't want to talk, but it might be a case needing his participation. Tony was more than competent, but since Tim's...disappearance...he had lost a bit of his edge.

He took a deep breath and looked at the display...and was surprised to find _Sam and Naomi McGee_ there. He didn't waste any more time.

"Gibbs."

"_Agent Gibbs..."_ A breathless voice that began and then stopped. _"I...I hardly...I don't know how to say it...so I'll just say it. Tim is alive!"_

If there was ever a time when Gibbs nearly dropped a phone in shock, this was it. He sank onto a stool.

"What? Where was he?"

"_On a little island called Sule Skerry about 40 miles west of Orkney. Everyone said that there's no way of explaining how the boat...got where it was...but...I don't even care! I just...our son is alive, Agent Gibbs."_

"When is he coming back?"

"_That's...actually why I was calling you. I hope it's not an inconvenience, and if you can't do it, that's fine."_

"What?"

"_Because of Sam's wheelchair, it's hard for us to do the last-minute trip on a plane. Most airlines need at least 48 hours notice, and the Kirkwall airport isn't all that big. It was hard getting there the first time. ...but the doctor said that Tim needs people he knows around him until he can get home again. I was hoping that you...or maybe one of the others could go and get him and bring him to Ohio. We'll pay his airfare...and yours too if needed, but we just want him home as soon as possible."_

"I'll go," Gibbs said. "I'll ask Ducky to go with me. We'll get him to you as soon as we can. Don't worry about the ticket."

"_Oh, thank you! I can't even say...I hardly believe it's true."_

"Haven't you talked to him?"

"_No. That's part of the reason the doctor wants someone there fast. Apparently, Tim's had...a really hard time of it. He's not quite himself, not really talking. We don't want to push him when we won't have any cues to let us know how he's feeling."_ He heard tears. _"I...I can't believe my son is alive. I'm sorry, Agent Gibbs."_

"Don't apologize...not for this. I understand. I'll let you know when we get there."

"_Thank you. Thank you so much."_

Gibbs said good-bye and disconnected. Then, he sat there for a moment. Tim was alive! He was alive and in a hospital. After three months...he was alive. Over and over the three words repeated in his head. It didn't seem possible. It seemed like a miracle. It seemed...crazy.

Then, he shook off his shock and called Ducky.

"_Yes, Jethro? It's not often you call me during the work day...particularly not when you aren't working yourself."_

"Pack a bag, Ducky. We're going to Orkney."

"_What? Whatever for?"_

"I just got a call from McGee's mother. They found him. Alive."

There was a long pause and then Gibbs heard Ducky speaking to Jimmy.

"_No...Mr. Palmer...I am quite well. I will explain in a moment. Jethro...what are you saying?"_

"I'm saying that McGee is alive in a hospital in Orkney and his parents want us to get him and bring to Ohio. Are you coming?"

"_Of...course...of course! Jethro, that's...I'm...speechless."_

"That's a first," Gibbs said with a smile.

"_How is he?"_

"Not great, apparently, but I don't know any details. He's had some psychological problems, I guess. Isn't talking."

"_Of course, I'm going with you. When is our flight?"_

"As soon as I schedule it."

There was a soft chuckle. _"Somehow, I feel as though we're being as reckless as Timothy was...but at least we know why we're going."_

"Yeah...that's something. Tell everyone else?"

"_Yes. I will. I'd tell the whole world if I could. They'll want to come with us."_

"I know. Tell them that we'll be getting McGee to Ohio as soon as we can, and that we'll call them when we're leaving so they can get there."

"_I'll do that. It won't help, but I'll do it."_

Gibbs hung up. He was happy about this, yes. Ecstatic...relieved...but...his gut told him that this wasn't going to be a joyful reunion. Tim was so far from being himself that he didn't speak to his parents after being stranded on an island for three months? Not even to say hello? That told Gibbs that something was definitely wrong. Now, maybe it was transient, but still...

As he made his reservations, he wondered just how this would all play out...and he wondered how in the world Tim had survived for three months, alone.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim stared at himself in the mirror. He'd been staring for nearly an hour. It was a different person staring at him than he was used to. Of course, he _felt_ like a different person; so that was to be expected, he supposed. He didn't like the look of his face, though. It was just...wrong. The beard...it looked horrible.

He walked to the doorway, pulling the IV stand along with him. He didn't like that, either. When he reached the hall, he looked around, unsure of what to do.

"Mr. McGee, what do you need?"

He turned and saw one of the nurses looking at him with kind concern. He wasn't surprised she was there. They seemed determined to keep tabs on him. Not that it mattered.

"A razor," he said.

The concern deepened.

"I need...to shave," he clarified...and gestured vaguely at his face.

She smiled...with more than a little relief.

"I think we can manage to find you one."

"Thank you," Tim said and then walked back into the room. He didn't know what else to do with himself. Shaving seemed...so normal, but it wasn't that he was doing it because it mattered. It was something to do...besides, it itched...and it distracted him from the yawning emptiness inside him...the part that made him want to break down into gasping sobs.

"I'll need to be in here with you while you shave," the nurse said, producing a razor and shaving cream.

Tim assumed he seemed off-kilter, if not outright crazy. He felt that way. He was afraid of what would happen the first time he felt the sea inside him again. Eira wasn't there to help him. No one could help him. He was afraid that he would _be_ crazy. He didn't mind if they felt the need to take precautions. Useless precautions, but he didn't care. Silently, he shaved off the three months of facial hair. He'd never been particularly hairy; so the beard wasn't incredibly substantial. He was glad to have it gone, though. He looked at himself in the mirror again.

It didn't help. He still looked pinched and afraid...more than afraid. It was more than just fear. It was...dread and pain. ...but the simple act of shaving had tired him out again. He just wanted to sleep and hide away. He gave the razor back to the nurse.

"You look much better, Mr. McGee."

Tim tried to smile but failed. What was there to smile about?

"I'm tired," he said softly.

"That's fine. Can you get back to bed all right?"

He nodded and walked to his bed. The nurse unassumingly helped him arrange his IVs. Then, she smiled.

"I'm going to leave the door ajar. Just call if you need anything."

"Thank you," Tim said and then closed his eyes and slept...and dreamed of the sea.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Timothy is alive," Ducky said to those gathered in the bullpen.

You could have dropped...not just a pin...a feather and heard it hit the ground. It was that quiet.

"He is..." Ziva began and then stopped.

"...alive," Ducky said. "He was found on a small island west of Orkney. They have taken him to the hospital in Kirkwall and Jethro and I will go and get him."

"I'll come, too!" Abby said instantly.

There was a chorus. Ducky smiled ruefully. He had known this would happen...and he figured that this was why Gibbs had left it to him to give the news.

"No, this is going to be only Jethro and myself. Our task is simply to go and get him and take him back to Ohio. We will not be spending one minute longer there than is necessary."

"But..."

"Abigail, you have work. You all have work."

"And don't you?" Tony shot back.

"I'm very efficient...and unlike the rest of you, I have a wonderful backup." He looked at Jimmy whose eyes opened wide at the prospect...appreciation at the compliment warring with frustration in his expression.

"Why aren't his parents getting him?" Jimmy asked finally.

"Mr. McGee's wheelchair, I'm afraid. Too difficult to deal with on short notice and they simply want their son home as soon as possible." He glossed over Tim's possible psychological problems. Why spoil the moment?

"He's okay, though?" Tony asked.

"I dare say he has had his share of problems, but I am not aware of any life-threatening injuries. I assume that he will be facing some vitamin and mineral deficiencies, but with luck they won't cause permanent damage."

"You _will_ call us," Ziva said. It wasn't a request.

"Of course. I will keep you all well-informed and when we know our itinerary, we will tell you all so that you can go to Ohio and greet him."

"He's going home?" Abby asked with a little bit of disappointment.

"Yes, Abigail. Remember: _we_ are not his family, and his parents deserve the chance to see him...and Timothy will need time to recover, I imagine."

"I know. You're right."

"Hey," Tony said suddenly. "We'll get to give him his stuff back!"

That brought a round of laughter, and Ducky took the opportunity to slip away to meet Gibbs.

He spent a brief moment wondering just what this flight would cost and then dismissed it as a frivolous concern considering the situation.

All that mattered was getting to Orkney.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Sarah Davar was one of the nurses on shift overnight this week...and her position was in the hallway where their newest patient's room was. Considering his past actions, they didn't want to take any chances that he'd vanish again. She wasn't sure if he was crazy, but he was certainly taciturn and full of unexpressed pain.

It was her third pass by his door...which they left slightly open...when she heard a sound. It sounded like a whimper. Then, there was a thump. Quickly, Sarah hurried inside.

There he was, on the floor by the window, his left hand pressed flat against the glass. ...and he was sobbing.

"Mr. McGee?" she asked softly.

His body was shaking with the tears he was crying, but when she came nearer, she saw that his eyes were closed. Could he be asleep?

"Mr. McGee."

No response. No real movement either. Just those heart-wrenching sobs. Though it wasn't normally-accepted practice, she knelt on the floor beside him and hugged him gently, as she would one of her own children.

"Oh, Mr. McGee. It'll be all right. Give it some time."

Still no response.

"Come on, now. Up you get. Back into bed."

She lifted and was surprised that he stood. Maybe he _wasn't_ asleep...but he made no other indication of consciousness. Eyes closed, no response to her words. She lay him down in bed and he curled up on his side, pulling his IVs to the limit of the lines. Sarah took the bags and transferred them to stand on the other side of the bed. Then, she sat beside him and rubbed his back until he stopped crying.

The shuddering breaths didn't stop for a long time, but the outright sobbing did.

As she walked out of the room, Sarah hoped that someone would come for him soon. Perhaps he would open up to family and friends...since he wouldn't open up to strangers.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"Dr. Levine?" Ducky asked.

"Yes. You're Timothy McGee's friends?"

"Yes. Can we see him?"

Dr. Levine's expression was serious but he nodded.

"This way. He's asleep at the moment, and I'll want to talk with you both before you talk with him, too. ...but I understand that you need to see him first."

Ducky and Gibbs walked down the hall, both feeling slightly apprehensive now, but neither spoke, waiting to worry or not based on what they saw.

...and when they saw Tim asleep on the bed...they were both worried. He was curled in a tight fetal position, and his expression was anything but relaxed. Tim looked like he was in agony. He was thin. His hair was shaggy. His clean-shaven face seemed strange in comparison to the rest of him.

"What's wrong with him?" Gibbs asked.

"Nothing physical," Dr. Levine said softly. "Come with me. We're keeping an eye on him."

Reluctantly, Gibbs and Ducky followed Dr. Levine to his office.

"What is it, Dr. Levine?" Ducky asked.

"First...is Mr. McGee married by chance?"

Ducky and Gibbs looked at each other and then back at the doctor.

"No," Gibbs said.

"You're certain?"

"Completely."

"Why do you ask?" Ducky asked.

"He's wearing a ring on his left ring finger. He had it with him on the island and he's refused to let us take it off. I just wanted to be sure. No one who left him?"

"He's been crossed in love a few times," Ducky said, "but never to the degree of a marriage, nor even a proposal."

"All right. Well...physically, he has lost a lot of weight as you probably noticed. He had some deficiencies that we're ameliorating with the IVs. We're going to start him back on solid food tomorrow. It's going to be a slow process back to his regular eating habits, and I'd like to get him started on it before you take him on a long plane ride. I know what the food's like in airports and on planes. It's best to get him a bit more stable before that happens."

Ducky smiled. Gibbs did not.

"You said what was wrong with him wasn't physical."

"No. It's not. Not really. He told Patrick and the others that he ate seaweed and raw fish. That's not wonderful, but it's much better than he could have had. That was what kept him from starving, and there was apparently a storage of water there...stale but potable. Physically, he was quite fortunate, although he was obviously ill...and he did have some injuries which could be attributed to whatever it took for him to get fish and seaweed. I'm certain that couldn't have been easy for him on Sule Skerry. ...but mentally, emotionally...there is something wrong that I can't chalk up to isolation. A nurse found him last night, crying on the floor beside the window. Something happened to him that he's not telling. I don't know what it is. I don't know why he won't reveal it. I just know...that when he goes back, he will need to have professional help, and we don't have that here, and he will need _time_ to deal with whatever it is. I'm hoping that your presence will at least help him..._engage_ with the world again because he's not. He's hiding, and it has something to do with that pain you could see. This man, even though I don't know him from before this...his psyche is severely damaged and will need time and understanding in order to heal."

"We'll do our best, of course," Ducky said. "How long do you want to keep him here before we leave?"

"Tomorrow at the very least. Likely, two more days."

"Do you know where I could find the men who rescued him?" Gibbs asked.

Dr. Levine finally smiled. "If I know Michael and Gregor, they'll be at the pub by the pier, basking the glow of their brief moments of fame. Sigur will be there, too, but likely keeping to himself. He's had too many years of fishing to want attention now. I don't know if Patrick'll be there. He may or may not. He lives over on Westray, you know."

"I'd like to talk to them. Do you think they'd mind?"

"Not at all."

Gibbs looked at Ducky who just nodded.

"I'll stay with Timothy until he wakes up."

"How do I get to the pier?" Gibbs asked.

"That's easy enough. Go out front and ask for a ride. Tell them who you are and you'll get ten offers."

Gibbs did smile at that. "Thanks."

"Would it be allowed for me to stay with Timothy tonight?" Ducky asked as Gibbs left the room.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay in a hotel? There's one very close by, and I don't think he'll be waking up."

"Nevertheless...after believing him dead...I find I don't want to lose sight of him."

Dr. Levine smiled. "I understand. Go ahead."

Ducky stood and hurried back to Tim's room. Tim had not changed position. He was still in that contorted pose. Ducky pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down. He stared at the tortured young man and then touched his arm...just to prove to himself that Tim was really there. Tim shivered slightly at the touch but didn't awaken.

"Timothy...you're alive."

That's all he could say for a while.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

As Dr. Levine had promised, Gibbs had no shortage of offers to take him to the pub. He took one at random and was grateful. When they got to the pub, he looked around.

"Which one is Sigur?" he asked.

The man who'd brought him smiled. "Ah, figured out the most reliable one, have you?"

"Age before beauty," Gibbs said.

The man chortled. "Oh, indeed! Well, Michael's a good soul. He's just sitting with Gregor over there to keep him from embroidering too much. Actually, Gregor's a good soul, too. First one to volunteer on Patrick's pointless search. Patrick himself is good, but his wife needs him home."

"Sigur?" Gibbs repeated.

"Oh, course. Forgot. He's the old man there at the bar. He'll buy you a pint if you talk with him for more than a minute."

"Thanks."

"You'll be needing a ride back to the hospital after. Just give me a nod."

Gibbs smiled his thanks and headed to the old fisherman at the bar.

"Sigur?"

The man looked at him. "Who's asking?"

"Name's Jethro. I'm a friend of the man you pulled off Sule Skerry."

Instantly, Sigur's countenance changed. "Have a seat. What'll you have?"

"What are you having?"

"You ever have Orkney ale?"

"Nope."

"Sit down and try it, then," he said. "Marie, another Dragonhead over here for my friend, Jethro."

Marie set the pint in front of Gibbs and looked at him speculatively.

"You're here for the man they found."

Gibbs nodded.

"How is he?"

"Could be better...but he's alive."

She nodded, understanding what he meant and then went back to her more lively customers.

"You don't seem as happy as they are about it," Gibbs said, sipping at the ale.

Sigur shrugged. "You don't celebrate pulling a man from the depths of Hell until you're sure you've actually done it. I'm not so sure we've really saved him."

"That's what I wanted to ask you about."

"Figured. You've seen him, haven't you?"

"Yeah."

Sigur nodded. "He was haunted by something. When he looked at us, it was like we were staring at him from another world...and I don't know that he's actually come back to ours. I think he's still more than half in his own."

"What happened?"

"Not much on the surface. Gregor saw him first. Then, I looked and saw him. We went to the skerry, and he kept shaking head in answer to every question we asked him. I asked him if he was thirsty and he shook his head, but when I gave him a canteen, he nearly drowned himself trying to drink. Asked him if he was cold. He shook his head, but acted like he was freezing when we gave him a blanket. There was one thing he said to us that I still can't figure out."

"What?"

"I asked him his name. He said that names don't matter. You know what that means?"

Gibbs shook his head.

"Nor I. I figured he was just in shock at being rescued, but he didn't seem happy about it, not at any time. Then...no one's told you what he did on the boat, have they."

"No. I don't know any of the details."

"He nearly jumped out of it, saying he had to...get somewhere. Begged us to let him go. I think he was half asleep and not really sure where he was, but he was in right swivet. Tense and shaking until I calmed him down a bit. If I were to describe him in a phrase, I'd say he's messed up in the head. I don't know if he's crazy, but he's messed up. There are stories about Sule Skerry, but they're rubbish."

"What stories?"

"Selkies, Jethro. Selkies. That song everyone knows...even your friend. He was humming it in his daze. The song was written down in the nineteenth century, but it's older than that. No one knows just how old. Sule Skerry is a dwelling place for the selkies. Now...selkie just means seal, but it's come to mean the seal people, beings that can come on land, shed their seal skins and be human beings. That place has been uninhabited for thirty years. If we hadn't gone out there, your friend wouldn't have seen hide nor hair of anyone until the bird watchers came...and I don't think he'd have lasted. He may have seen the seals. When we got there, the puffins were there, but no seals."

Sigur took another drink.

"No matter. Whatever it was that changed him, your friend won't be fine with a couple of days rest or I don't know anything at all...and I'm pretty smart."

"What do you think's wrong with him?"

"I think something happened...either before he got to Sule Skerry or after. Something he's unwilling to share. I think he's stuck with that...whatever it is. I think it's not going to get better for him for a long time. He was feeling pain."

"Doc said physically he's all right."

"Doc can say what he likes. There are other ways of feeling pain. _Real_ pain. Just because a man doesn't have a bloody wound, doesn't mean he's not still bleeding."

Gibbs nodded. He knew the feeling.

"Thanks for the ale."

"Anytime...oh, and Jethro?"

"Yeah?"

"You hear him start mumbling about getting away...start watching him close. That's when he starts doing strange things."

"I'll remember that."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

When Gibbs got back to the hospital, Ducky was drowsing in the chair. They decided they'd trade off and get a room in the nearby hotel. Gibbs sent Ducky to sleep first and he sat in the vacated seat. Tim was still curled in that awkward position, and Gibbs resigned himself to a long night.

...it _was_ a long night...but not for the reason he'd expected.

About two in the morning, Tim suddenly sat up in bed. He was breathing irregularly and whimpering. Gibbs came awake with a start.

"McGee?"

"Got to...get away...help...need...help..."

Remembering Sigur's warning, Gibbs became wary, but Tim's sudden burst of movement toward the window still took him by surprise. He flattened himself against it, almost clawing at it. The expression on his face was a terrible one of pain and longing. Gibbs grabbed him and pulled him back. Tim was surprisingly strong for someone who looked so weak.

"Let...go! ...have to...now...please...the sea. ...the sea..."

"I've got you, Tim. It's okay. Calm down. You're all right."

Still, Tim strained to get away from him. His pleas became outright shrieks as he begged Gibbs to let him go. Go where...Gibbs didn't know, but he had no intention of letting Tim go _anywhere_ in his current state.

"No! No! Can't...Can't...do it! No! Can't...fight back...too strong!"

"Fight who? Fight _who_, Tim?"

"Help...help me...need you...please..."

"Tim..."

Then, Tim let out a wordless cry and doubled over, nearly dragging Gibbs down with him.

"Too late...always...always too late...never...never make it...can't make it."

Tim's hand grabbed Gibbs' shirt and clenched into a tight fist.

"Tell me...it'll go away."

"It'll go away, Tim," Gibbs said, having no idea what he was telling him.

"It won't...always...always comes back..."

Tim began to cry, not silently, nor gently. But gasping, noisy sobs that made Gibbs wonder just where this degree of agony was coming from.

"Not...far enough..." he whimpered.

Then, Tim surprised Gibbs by looking at him.

"Boss..."

The large green eyes seemed to look right through him and then Tim shook his head and folded like a deck of cards...unconscious once more.

Gibbs got Tim back into bed and then sat beside him, holding his hand through the rest of the night.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Ducky woke Gibbs up the next morning and gestured for him to come into the hall.

"What is it, Duck?"

"Timothy looks worse than he did before. What happened?"

"Nightmare...delusion...hallucination...flashback. Don't know. He started trying to break through the window and saying he couldn't fight someone. Right before he passed out again, he did see me...but I don't think he did at all before that."

Ducky nodded.

"All right. You look awful, Jethro. Go and get some sleep. I'll take over for now."

Gibbs only nodded and left. Ducky walked back into the room and sat down. It was about an hour before Tim opened his eyes. It was the first time Ducky had looked into them since before Tim had first gone to Orkney...and what he saw there was not something he ever wanted to see in a human being's eyes. Tortured...haunted...in agony...no word seemed right for what Tim's eyes expressed.

"Good morning, lad," he said, sensing that expressions of joy would be inappropriate at this moment.

Tim said nothing. He sat up, looked out the window and then faced forward.

"We're all very relieved that you're alive."

Still nothing.

"Timothy."

Tim took a deep trembling breath, closed his eyes and then exhaled quickly. For a few seconds, he sat there with his eyes closed and then he looked at Ducky.

"Hi," he whispered.

"You've looked better, lad," Ducky said with a gentle smile.

Tim's gaze flitted around the room and then settled...on the floor.

"Felt better..."

"I'm sure." Ducky looked at Tim's hands, the blanket clenched tightly in them...and he noticed the ring Dr. Levine had mentioned. "That's a lovely ring, Timothy. Where did you get it?"

He wasn't sure Tim would answer, but Tim looked at the ring.

"Artist in...Tankerness. Makes jewelry. I bought it there."

"May I see it?"

Slowly, Tim removed the ring and handed it to Ducky, all without looking at him. Ducky took it and turned it over in his hands. It had clearly been with him during his time on the island. It was scuffed and dinged, but still beautiful.

"It was expensive," Tim whispered.

"I'd imagine. It's a work of art all on its own. I can see why you wanted to keep hold of it. If I may ask, though, why are you wearing it on your ring finger?"

Tim held out his hand for the ring and returned to its place.

"No reason."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Yes."

Tim was lying. It was clear, and it was clear that he didn't care if Ducky knew that. He just wouldn't answer.

"Timothy...please, talk to me."

"No."

"Why not?"

Tim looked at him again, that same desolate look in his eyes.

"Because...it doesn't matter. None of it matters. I'm back." He looked out the window again and swallowed. "I'm not...on...Sule Skerry...anymore. Doesn't matter."

"How did you get there?"

"Boat."

"We found the boat...but nowhere near Sule Skerry."

"I know."

"What happened to you, Timothy?"

His hands clenched back to fists. "Nothing. It was nothing. All nothing. Every moment. Nothing."

"How did you get to the boat?"

"I don't remember. I woke up on the boat. It sank in the storm. I saw the lighthouse and swam to the light. Woke up on Sule Skerry. I was there for...how long was I there?"

"Over three months."

Tim nodded. "I was there for three months. I left Sule Skerry. Now, I'm here. That's all there is."

"What did you do on Sule Skerry for those three months?"

If anything, Tim's hands clenched even more tightly, but his voice still had that same dead tone to it.

"Nothing. Nothing to do there...just an island. Just...an island."

"Timothy, nothing will happen to you if you tell me the truth."

Tim began to laugh, and it was a painful sound, as if he chose to laugh because the only other option was to scream.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Ducky. You...you don't know." Tim started getting agitated. "There was nothing on the island. There was just me. Nothing there. Nothing!"

He started breathing more quickly.

"I need to get out of here, out of this room." He threw off the blankets and started to stand. Ducky stood as well and grabbed Tim's arms...and felt Tim trembling from the tension in his body.

"No, Timothy. You need to stay here."

"No! No!" Tim said desperately. "I have to...have to...get..." He pulled out the IV needles before Ducky could stop him. "Let me go! Let me go!"

"Timothy, stop! Look at me!"

Tim did look at him and Ducky could see the desperation in his eyes.

"I have...I...need to..." Then, he closed those anguished eyes and dropped his head. "I hate...this...hate it."

"What _is _this, Timothy?"

"Nothing...nothing...nothing."

"It most certainly is _not_ nothing."

Tim pulled himself away from Ducky's grasp and ran into the bathroom, closing the door and locking it behind him.

"Timothy!"

He heard a muffled sob and then the shower turned on. He pounded on the door.

"Timothy!"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim heard Ducky's pleas but he ignored them. Instead, he stripped off the hospital gown, the socks and pulled off the now-useless bandages which had secured the IV needles. Then, he turned on the shower and got under the spray, trying to pretend it was the mist from the ocean, even though he knew it was nothing of the sort...and the mist had never helped anyway. He began to cry from the pain of longing for what he could never have. It seemed as though his separation from Sule Skerry had made it _worse_ not better.

He fell to his knees and leaned his head against the wall of the shower, sobbing as the sea surged up more and more inside him with no way to alleviate it. Not anymore. His soul cried out to return to the sea and yet he never could.

He screamed out his misery and pain...and then the door burst open and Ducky came in, followed by Dr. Levine and a nurse Tim didn't recognize. Ducky quickly turned off the water.

Tim forced himself to look at Ducky, knowing that there was nothing Ducky could do to stop his pain, knowing that he would feel it no matter what...but wanting Ducky to be able to do _something_ to help him.

"Help...Ducky...help me. Help me."

"What's wrong, Timothy?"

"Have to get out...have to...get me out! Help me..." The need surged up inside him again. "The sea! I need...help me!"

Ducky knelt down and pulled Tim into his arms. Tim started to struggle. Ducky wouldn't take him to the sea. He knew that, and he knew that it wouldn't help anyway. The sea surged to its peak and then crashed over him, drowning him in the need to be a part of it...and Tim screamed, his voice echoing off the walls of the shower. Ducky's voice faded away and Tim was lost in a miasma of sound. The roar of the sea, the echoes of his own pain, and underneath it all, a faint tendril of calm that began to grow. After a time, he opened his eyes, breathing heavily, feeling as though he'd run a marathon. He let his head flop back against the wall of the shower...and he saw Ducky there, his face pinched with worry.

"Timothy, can you hear me?"

Tim nodded.

"What just happened?"

"Nothing."

"Timothy!" Ducky said with frustration. "Look at your hands. Look at mine."

Tim did...there were claw marks on both...Tim's on his palms, and Ducky's on the back of his hands.

"Sorry," he said, softly. "I didn't mean to."

"That's not the point, Timothy. I know that. This is not nothing. What happened?"

Tim shook his head. One thing he was sure of: He couldn't tell anyone what had happened on Sule Skerry. They would never believe him. He had to deal with it all on his own...even if he couldn't do it. ...but at the same time, he couldn't bear the thought of making something up, making a lie. That caused him pain all on its own. If he just refused to say, that would be enough.

Even though his legs felt like water, Tim forced himself to stand up. There was a moment of embarrassment as he realized he wasn't wearing anything, but it didn't last long. Ducky stood up as well and handed him a robe. Tim put it on gratefully and then sat down on the toilet.

"You think I'm crazy," he said softly.

"No, Timothy."

"Yes, you do. ...and I wish you were right. I wish that's all I was...but I'm not. I'm not crazy." Tim lifted his head, and in this lull, he found he could dredge up a ghost of a smile. "Or maybe I am...remember what you told me? People who are crazy don't worry about being crazy. It's the sane ones who worry."

Ducky didn't reply. Maybe he couldn't. Tim leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. The longing was ebbing now. Hopefully, it would stay away for a while. Tim sat silently for a while and then looked up.

"I want to go outside, Ducky. Please?"

Ducky visibly hesitated. Tim didn't really blame him.

"I will...talk with Dr. Levine."

"Meaning you don't want me to, but you'll ask anyway...because you're a good person."

Ducky sighed. "Timothy..."

"I have nothing to say, Ducky," Tim said. "Don't ask me."

"Very well...for now."

He left the bathroom, and Tim sighed himself and rested his head in his hands.

"Eira..." he whispered.

Just the name. Nothing else.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky cast worried glances back toward the bathroom where Tim was waiting and then stepped out into the hall.

"He's calm again," he reported.

"Good. I would have been forced to sedate him if he continued. He told you nothing?"

"Nothing. He claims that there's nothing, but I don't believe he's trying to lie at all. I think he just doesn't want to say anything. Why that is the case, I don't know, but his lies are...flimsy, even for him. I don't think he really wants to lie to me. Which is comforting, I suppose."

Even as he said it, Ducky didn't feel comforted in the least. Dr. Levine smiled in understanding.

"He's asked to go outside...more calmly than he was before. What do you think?"

Dr. Levine took a deep breath. "I'm not a psychologist, you understand. I'm a doctor. I deal with broken bones more than broken minds. I think it might do him good to be outside. The sun is important for us, and perhaps he does need time outside to readjust to being away from Sule Skerry. I'm not opposed to the idea, but I think you should not take him out by himself. Get someone to come with you."

"I'll get Jethro to come. He'll need some clothes. I'm afraid we didn't think to pack anything for him."

"Oh, I forgot. Isobel Munro asked me about that very thing. I think she had some plans in mind. Why don't you give her a call? If not, there are plenty of places you could buy clothing for him. As our local celebrity, I'm sure Mr. McGee's clothes would come at a discount."

Ducky nodded and smiled, glad for something to dispel his intense worry for Tim's mental health.

When he called Isobel, she was more than happy to help him out. She had already made arrangements, she said. All Ducky would need to do is go to a couple of stores she'd called and give them Tim's sizes. She'd already paid for the clothes. Ducky tried to protest, but she wouldn't hear of it and steadily resisted until Ducky gave in to her...demand that he accept her generosity. He wrote down the stores she told him and then told the on-call nurse that he was leaving and would be back shortly.

When he came out of the hospital, he asked someone for directions...and was given a ride. He went into three different stores and came out of them laden with not only clothing but shoes, toiletries and a suitcase...and he hadn't paid a penny for them. Isobel had been more than generous. Ducky had a suspicion that she still felt somewhat responsible for Tim's initial disappearance.

When he returned to the hospital, Tim hadn't come out of the bathroom, but his current state of lassitude was, in its way, as disturbing as his former mania had been. Ducky began running through various psychological disorders in his mind, thinking of the symptoms and trying to correlate Tim's behavior to them. ...but none seemed to fit, really. That left him puzzled, but he set the bags of clothing on the bed.

"Timothy?"

There was movement in the bathroom and Tim came out, still dressed in the robe.

"Yeah?"

"Dr. Levine approved your request to go outside, but there are a few things that must be done first."

"Such as?"

"You need to eat something since you removed your IVs," Ducky said mildly.

Tim didn't react at all to the pointed statement. He just nodded.

"I have acquired some clothing for you. I hope I got the sizes correct."

"I can pay you back," Tim said.

"I didn't pay for it, I'm afraid. It's all from Isobel Munro."

"Why?"

"Guilt is part of it, I'm sure, but also because she is a kind woman who wants to help where she can."

Again, Tim only nodded. He looked at the bags and then walked over to them. Ducky watched as he went through the clothing and picked an outfit, seemingly at random. Then, he walked back into the bathroom to change. While he was doing that, Ducky took the opportunity to get some food sent in. It was all very bland fare, but a necessity for Tim's stomach which would more than likely find anything else difficult to digest.

Tim came back out of the bathroom, looking almost human again. The clothes were simple fare. High-quality jeans, a t-shirt topped with a good thick wool pullover, and sturdy walking shoes. Tim was well-dressed, but still he looked lost in this human world.

_Now, why did I think that?_ Ducky wondered to himself.

"I'm ready," Tim said.

"So is your lunch."

Tim smiled faintly and sat down on the bed. He didn't complain about the food. He ate what was there without comment. When he finished, he looked at Ducky without speaking, but the expression was such that he might as well have been shouting his question.

"We have to wait for Jethro to arrive."

Again, the simple nod.

"No complaint?"

Tim shook his head and moved the tray away from the bed. He looked at the other clothes on the bed.

"They're nice. Warm."

"Yes. I was quite impressed."

"I wasn't really dressed for the weather out there."

"What were you wearing?"

"Sweat pants and a t-shirt."

"No shoes?"

Tim shook his head. "I tore up a blanket and wrapped it around my feet sometimes, but mostly I just got used to it."

"To what?"

"Being cold...having my feet hurt...all of that. I just got used to it. Couldn't be any other way."

Ducky was surprised that Tim was talking about his experience when, not three hours ago, he had refused to say anything at all.

"I'm surprised your clothing lasted."

"It didn't really. I had to use another blanket to replace my shirt. Pants were bad by the end. I don't think the wind ever stopped blowing."

"That seems to be fairly common."

Another nod.

"I understand that Sule Skerry..." Tim tensed up at the name. Ducky was sure he hadn't imagined that. "...that the island is a breeding ground for a substantial number of puffins."

Tim nodded.

"Did you see them while you were there?"

Another nod.

Ducky decided to try and dig a little deeper. "Timothy?"

"No," Tim said, stopping him before he could even begin.

"Very well."

What did surprise Ducky was that Tim didn't rush him to get Gibbs there and go outside. He seemed content just to sit where he was and wait. Gibbs didn't arrive for another hour, and the look in his eye told Ducky, at least, that someone had briefed him on what had happened. As soon as Tim saw him, he stood, looking at Ducky expectantly, but still saying nothing.

"All right, Timothy. Let's go."

Tim nodded and headed out the door without a word.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Tim walked quickly, showing no sign of physical debility as he made a beeline for the coast on the east side of Kirkwall. It was only a mile or so, but Tim seemed especially tired by the time they got there, breathing heavily as they reached the end of the land and the beginning of the sea. Then, he just stood on the edge, staring at the harbor.

Ducky and Gibbs exchanged worried glances. Tim looked...old and young at the same time...as if he'd aged by a lot more than three months on Sule Skerry, and yet was not old enough to deal with whatever he was experiencing.

"Timothy," Ducky said, gently. "Timothy, are you all right?"

Still staring at the water, Tim started to laugh, as he had in his hospital room...that same hopeless expression of deep sadness. His hands covered his face and he continued to laugh. At first, they weren't sure if he was crying or laughing, but then, his laughter became audible and it had a kind of wildness to it that heralded some sort of extreme, either mania or depression.

Gibbs walked to Tim, turned him away from the harbor, and carefully pulled down his hands away from his face...trying to get into that world Tim seemed to be living in. Tim looked at him and then looked off into the distance and the laughter began to fade.

"No," he said. That was all...and then he turned away from Gibbs and faced the sea, his breathing shallow and irregular. He wrapped his arms around himself and hunched his shoulders. Then, he dropped to his knees and shook his head at the sight greeting him.

"This isn't right," he whispered. "It's not the right...place. It's...wrong. Not..."

"Not what, McGee?" Gibbs asked, crouching down beside him. "What is not?"

Tim stared out at the sea and then he began humming. Gibbs recognized the tune as one that Tim had hummed before he had gone to Orkney. Then, suddenly, he began to sing, very softly, but still intelligibly.

"_I am a man upon the land;  
><em>_I am a selchie on the sea,  
><em>_and when I'm far frae ev'ry strand,  
><em>_my dwelling is in Sule Skerry."_

"Tim, what are you saying?" Gibbs asked, more worried now about Tim's sanity. He remembered what Sigur had said about selkies the day before.

"You should have left me there," Tim said softly, still staring out at the sea rather than looking anywhere else. "You should have left me there...to die there."

"Why?"

"You think I'm nuts. I don't blame you. I'd think I was crazy, too. I wish I was crazy. Then, I wouldn't care."

"About what?"

He might as well have been talking to a statue for all the notice Tim took of his questions. He was talking but on a different wavelength.

Tim sat on the ground, still looking nowhere but at the sea. Gibbs put his hand on Tim's shoulder and felt how tense Tim was. Time to get Tim back. He didn't want to have to fight to keep him from throwing himself into the sea. No window to stop him this time. Gibbs tightened his grip and pulled Tim to his feet. Tim didn't resist, but he didn't look at Gibbs at all. It was clear that his thoughts were so far elsewhere that he wasn't even in the same world Gibbs and Ducky were in.

"Time to go back." What he really wanted to say was that it was time for Tim to rejoin the real world...but he didn't say that.

Tim stared at the sea for a while longer, resisting Gibbs' none-too-subtle tugging. Then, he looked at Ducky who had stayed silent through most of the exchange.

"Yes...it's not right here. I'll go back."

He started walking at the same quick pace he had used before, but this time, Gibbs didn't let go of his arm, forcing Tim to slow down to a calmer pace. He didn't resist it, and he didn't look back at the sea. Not once.

When they got back to the hospital, Tim went to his room and almost fell onto his bed. He was asleep in seconds.

"We probably shouldn't have let him walk so far," Ducky said.

"Yeah," Gibbs said. "What's wrong with him, Duck?"

"I have no idea," Ducky admitted. "He as good as admitted to me that there _was_ something, but he refused to elaborate in any way."

"Withdrawal?"

"From _what_?" Ducky asked. "Jethro, even if Timothy _was_ addicted to _something_ before he came to Orkney...three months on an island would be more than ample as a detoxification program! ...unless you think that he's lying about the time he spent there."

"I don't know, Ducky! That's the problem! McGee isn't saying anything. He's obviously having problems with _something_. I'm grasping at straws trying to find something that will explain why he's...acting crazy...because this isn't normal, Ducky. There is something wrong here and neither of us has a clue! How can we help him if we don't know what's wrong?"

"That is a very good question...but I think the answer is not something that is contingent upon our knowing what is wrong with him. I think we can help by being here, lending support where he's willing to take it. Right now...he's not willing or perhaps not _able_ to take very much support, but we keep trying. Hopefully, at some point, we'll make progress, but I'm seeing now, that progress will take a longer time than I first thought. I don't think he'll be able to heal completely until he comes to grips with whatever it was that happened, but _our_ aid can only be what he will allow."

Gibbs looked past Ducky to where Tim had curled back into a fetal position.

"Do you want to sleep first tonight?" he asked.

Ducky sighed and then nodded.

"Yes. I must admit that I'm not as young as I once was. I will sleep well tonight. We should have made him eat something before he fell asleep."

"Tell them on the way out. We need to eat, too."

Ducky smiled and nodded. "Yes, indeed."

They went out for dinner but didn't linger, returning to the hospital and spending the evening with Tim. He woke up once, said nothing, ate another bland meal...and then went back to sleep. Gibbs sat beside Tim that night, thinking that he'd be more ready for whatever happened.

He wasn't ready for _nothing_ to happen.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up. Where he had gone earlier was wrong. That wasn't the sea as he felt it inside himself. That was a tamed sea...calm, gentle...protected. His was wild and painful, battered about by storm and wind. It was the wrong side of the island. He rolled over and looked at Gibbs.

Gibbs was asleep. He didn't get a chance to see Gibbs sleeping very often. Gibbs never seemed to _need_ sleep...but here he was. Sleeping. Tim looked at the clock.

Four a.m.

Good enough. Quietly, Tim eased out of bed and walked to the door which was still slightly ajar. He'd slept in his clothes. Perfect. Quietly, he went into the hallway, looked both ways and snuck out of the hospital. It wasn't easy, but he was determined and he wouldn't be stopped. He walked out of the hospital and wasn't sure which way to go.

West. That was the direction. He started to walk. His sense of geography on this island was iffy at best, but he kept walking, knowing that he'd get to the ocean at some point. It was an island. He started walking along a road which declared itself to be A965. Didn't mean a thing to him. He'd walked for about an hour, feeling tired and chilly when a car pulled over.

"Hey, where you headed so early in the morning?"

Tim thought. What was west of Kirkwall? Thinking back to his brief stint as a tourist was really hard...as if he was trying to remember the memories of someone else...but then, a name popped into his head and he said it, hoping it was somewhat close to the coast.

"Yesnaby."

"Walking the whole way?"

"How far is it? I didn't think it was very far."

The man laughed. "Not compared to America, I guess, but it's about fifteen miles from where you are now."

"Oh."

That was far. A lot farther than he'd planned on walking. ...but he had to get there.

"I...I wanted to see it right as the sun came up. I guess...I won't make it."

"I'll give you a ride if you'd like."

"I would. Thanks."

Tim got in and tried not to reveal who he was or any of his lingering agitation.

"Tourist?"

"Yeah. Kind of."

The man looked at him for a few seconds and then turned back to the road and started driving. Tim didn't try to make conversation.

As they drew nearer to the cliffs, Tim felt his stomach start churning.

"I know you who are! You're that man what got rescued from Sule Skerry!"

Tim nodded and felt himself tense up.

"Well, seeing as I know who you are, I'll tell you who I am. Andrew Tait...although the name will mean nothing to you."

"No, I'm sorry. It doesn't."

"No matter. You're not from here. You really going to Yesnaby to see the sun?"

"No, but I am awake this time," Tim said and tried to smile. He couldn't do it.

"More than my life's worth if I help you come to harm. Generations of Taits would come after me."

"I'm not going to hurt myself. I just need to be...over here for a little while. ...but since you know who I am...could you go back to the hospital and tell my friends that I'm here? I didn't want to wake them...but I don't want them to worry."

"I'm thinking that they'll worry...don't you?"

"Yeah, but they'll worry whether I'm there or not."

"I'll make sure they know."

"Thank you."

"Here be Yesnaby. The cliffs are just a walk west of here. The Bough of Bigging is right near as well."

"Thank you."

The truck rolled to a stop and Tim got out. The truck turned around, but before Andrew drove away, he leaned out his window,

"You'll not find peace here...if that's what you're wanting."

Tim looked at him in surprise, but before he could ask what Andrew meant, he drove away.

"I won't find peace anywhere," Tim whispered to himself.

He saw the sea, dark and distant and he began to run toward it...right to the edge of the cliff. A part of him wanted to keep running and jump into the sea...and see if just this once, he could feel it that way. ...but he knew that he couldn't, and he stopped at the edge. He stared out at the sea. It was still dark. He was alone, and the wind was constant. Down below, he could hear the waves crash against the cliffs...and faintly, he could feel that inside himself. He stood for a long time without noticing the passing of the minutes. He simply stood there, wishing for what he couldn't have, wanting what couldn't be...and remembering.

Yes. This was the right sea. The wind blew hard against him, knocking him back a step or two, but he was used to the wind. He took deep gasping breaths as he stood facing the west. Sule Skerry was out there somewhere.

Maybe the selkies were out there somewhere, too.

"This is WRONG!" he shouted. The wind ripped his words away. "It's not getting better! Why did you let them rescue me? Why did you leave me behind? Why did you leave me alone?"

There was no answer. No sign of seals frolicking in the waves. No one who could actually _do_ something was there to hear him. Pain turned to anger.

"I _hate_ you! I hate what you've done to me!"

Still no answer. Just the wind. Just the waves.

Tim looked at his hand. The ring was there, still loose. It came off easily.

"You want it, Erlend? You can have it! Take it! It doesn't mean anything!" he screamed and threw the ring as hard as he could.

The sun peeked over the horizon and there was a brief flash before the ring disappeared in the waves. Then, Tim sat down heavily on the ground and stared out at the wreckage of everything he had been. He couldn't even cry. He was too broken for tears.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

"Jethro!"

The voice penetrated a deep fog and Gibbs woke up.

"Ducky..."

He looked at the bed...the empty bed.

"Oh, no."

"Where's Timothy?" Ducky asked.

"I don't..." Gibbs swore and stood up. "I fell asleep."

"It's all right," Ducky said. "We'll...We'll find him."

"Hey, you two the friends of Tim McGee?"

Ducky spun around and saw a young man, perhaps about Tim's age, looking at them with a smile. There was something slightly off about him...although he seemed genuinely friendly. They couldn't quite figure out what it was.

"Yes. We are."

"Good. I'm Andrew Tait. I gave him a ride early this morning."

"How early?"

Andrew shrugged. "It was...near five a.m., I think. He was walking to Yesnaby."

"Where's that?" Gibbs asked.

"It's a bunch of cliffs over on the west side of Mainland. He told me that he didn't want you to worry, but I figured he wanted some time alone; so I've been waiting until you woke up."

"How was he?" Ducky asked.

"Not...too happy, if you ask me, but he said he wasn't planning on hurting himself. Said he just needed some time."

"Is there a way for us to get out there?"

"I could give you a ride. I've already been there and back once today."

"Oh, no. It may not be a quick trip. Is there somewhere we could rent a car?"

"Sure! There's a place. I'll take you there and you can get a car for the week if you need it."

"A day will probably be sufficient," Ducky said. "Thank you."

"Of course! My pleasure."

Gibbs and Ducky wasted no time, but Ducky, at least, tried to be polite as they rushed Andrew out of the hospital.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim heard them coming up behind him and he sighed. They couldn't do anything to help him. He knew they cared, but he also knew that there was nothing they could do for him. Their presence only reminded him of just how different he was...and how much they could _not_ understand about him now. He didn't blame them. Before all this happened, he wouldn't have thought it possible either. ...but it didn't change the fact that he felt so isolated from everyone.

"Timothy!"

The call had a large degree of worry attached to it...and Tim did manage to feel a small degree of regret for that. The distance between him and the rest of the world was just too large to cross now. He could almost see a barrier slam down between them.

"Timothy!"

"I'm here," he said without turning around.

"What are you doing here?" Ducky demanded.

Oh, that question had so much more depth than Ducky could possibly imagine it did. The anger seemed to have purged him of the incessant call of the sea for the moment...but it didn't stop the feeling of...of _wildness_, of having that...lack of control. He either had to be desperate for the sea or angry. Well, of the two choices, Tim decided he'd take anger...for now.

"Sitting," he said bitterly. "Just sitting."

"Why here?"

"Because this was the right place."

"Why?" Gibbs asked. "McGee, tell us why."

"No."

Suddenly, Tim felt Gibbs grab him by the arms and physically lift him to his feet and turn him around. Tim saw that Gibbs was angry, too. Was the anger a cover...like his own was?

"McGee, what is _wrong_ with you? And don't say nothing because we both know that's not true!"

Tim said absolutely nothing at all. He just stared at Gibbs, trying to think of some reason to be angry at the man in front of him. Anger. Find the anger.

"You sneak off in the middle of the night..."

"It was four in the morning," Tim said.

"Shut up!" Gibbs snapped. "You sneak out, come to this empty patch of land and refuse to tell us why. You claim that you have no idea how you ended up on a boat in the middle of the ocean. You claim that nothing happened while you were on Sule Skerry..."

Just the name made Tim tense up. That was close enough to anger. He couldn't think why, really.

"Don't accuse me of lying!"

"Then, don't lie!"

"I don't know how I ended up on the boat! I don't remember!"

"McGee, what about on Sule Skerry?"

"There weren't any other people there. I was alone...just like I'm alone now because...because you won't..."

"What?"

Tim stepped back and shook his head. "No. No, I won't let you trick me. I won't let you...goad me into it."

"Into what?" Gibbs looked back at Ducky, visibly hesitated and then looked back. "McGee...having you been _taking_ something?"

Now, _that _was something easy to feel angry about. He threw off Gibbs' hands and laughed angrily.

"Am I _taking_ something? You think I'm think I'm on drugs or something? Are you kidding?"

Tim began to pace, shaking his head, the wildness getting worse.

"Where do you think I got drugs while I was stranded on...on that island? Huh?"

"McGee," Gibbs said.

"No! You don't believe me?" Tim bent over, picked up a sharp rock and, without any hesitation, gouged his own arm. "You want to test my blood? Go ahead! Test it! I'd love to know what you'd find there! Go ahead!" He held it out. "Take my blood! Fine!"

Instantly, Tim knew he'd gone too far, but it was like so much of his life right now. He had no control over what his body needed. He had no control over how he reacted...and now, he felt the sea again. Anger didn't hold it at bay. Anger seemed to beckon to it. He looked at his arm and then he looked at Gibbs and Ducky...and then back at his arm.

The bloody rock slipped from Tim's slack fingers and fell to the ground.

"There's nothing in my blood," he said...softly now. "Nothing there. It's just blood. Just my blood. That's all it is."

The sea surged up even stronger than before and Tim closed his eyes and started breathing heavily. What he wanted most at this point was what he couldn't have...and he was liable to throw himself into the sea...and he was on a cliff.

"What is it, McGee?"

"Get me away," Tim said. "Please...take me away."

Ducky hurried over to him. "All right. We'll get you back to the hospital."

"No! Not there! No...I need...I need to get away from...get me away from the sea. I don't...I can't be...Get me away!"

Ducky put calming arms around him and started to lead him away from the cliffs.

"In another day or two. Dr. Levine wants to..."

"NO!" Tim shouted. "No! Now! I have to go! I have to get away! I can't...be by the sea! Get me away from the sea, Ducky. Take me away. I need...I want to go home. I want to go home. Take me home. Please, take me home."

He tried to pull away from Ducky, tried to go the direction that home was, i.e. west. ...but Ducky's grip was stronger than he'd thought it was.

"Timothy, listen to me."

"No! No, I want to go home. I don't want to listen. I don't want to stay. I can't stay. I don't want to stay. If I stay..."

"What?"

"Let me go home!"

The pain. It came back with a vengeance and Tim whimpered. If only Eira were here...she had helped calm the pain, had helped lessen it when it had come. ...and she was the one who had given him this pain in the first place, and he remembered how much he hated her now.

"I hate you," Tim said as he struggled to get away from Ducky. "It's all your fault."

"Timothy..."

Ducky's voice was very far away, and Tim felt that horrible longing, memories that had never been his own of being a part of the sea, being one with it...a longing that could only be expressed as pain, a longing that had been suppressed for almost his entire life.

Then, with a thump, Tim was pulled away from those false memories...and he was flat on his back, staring up at Gibbs who actually looked afraid. Tim felt his lungs working double time. One more surge and Tim arched his back...screaming out the need.

Then, pain from an external source. It surprised him and he opened his eyes. He'd just been slapped. In the face. Gibbs had just slapped him!

"You hit me," he gasped out.

"Calm down, Tim," Gibbs said. He no longer sounded angry...nor afraid for that matter. "Just calm down. Breathe in. Breathe out."

Tim did that...fast.

Another stinging slap.

"No! Breathe in. Hold it."

Tim managed a quick gasping inhalation.

"Now...let it out."

An equally-quick exhalation.

"Breathe in. Try to slow it down."

The trembling inhalation was fast, but slower than before.

"Good. Exhale. Slowly."

It seemed like forever. All Gibbs was doing was telling him when to breathe in and when to breathe out. That was it. Ducky was there, holding his hand but saying nothing.

"Breathe in...breathe out."

Tim was able to do what Gibbs told him, when he told him to do it.

"Good. Now...answer me one question, Tim. Just the one. It will only take one word...and I'll believe you. Understand?"

Tim nodded.

"Good. Did you, either before, after or during your time on..." Ducky nudged him. "...on the island...did you _ever_ take any kind of drug?"

"No."

"Okay...and you won't tell us what's wrong?"

"No."

Gibbs looked disappointed for a moment but he covered it fairly well.

"Okay. You feeling better?"

Tim thought about it. He didn't feel so out of control as he had before, but he still felt utterly wretched and miserable. Was that better? He supposed so.

"I guess."

"I'm going to let you up, now."

True to his word, Gibbs sat back, releasing the pressure that had kept Tim pinned to the ground. Tim sat up, feeling lightheaded...and he noticed that the sun was now well up in the sky.

"How long?"

"Over an hour."

He'd spent an hour just trying to breathe correctly.

"We'll take you back to the hospital...and we'll talk to Dr. Levine about getting you home sooner."

Tim nodded.

"But there's a problem, Timothy," Ducky said.

Tim managed a weak laugh. "Yeah...me."

"Can you control yourself on the plane?"

"No." Tim saw no reason to deny it. "When it happens...it happens."

"Very well. Then, in order to get you home, we'll have to think of some way to keep you calm because you can't act like that on a flight."

"I _have _to go home," Tim said...and started breathing a little faster. What if they never let him leave?

Gibbs' hand on his shoulder.

"Breathe in."

Tim did.

"Breathe out."

Exhale.

"We'll get you there, Tim," Gibbs said calmly. "We will. We just have to figure out what will work best. Okay?"

Tim nodded.

"Okay. Now...you ready to go back to the hospital?"

Tim nodded again.

Gibbs and Ducky helped him to his feet and physically guided him toward a car.

"Oh, Timothy. Your ring! It must have fallen off."

Ducky turned to go back, but Tim shook his head and stopped him.

"No. I threw it away."

"Threw it away?"

"Into the ocean. I didn't want it."

If he'd felt able, Tim would have smiled as Ducky resisted the desire to ask him why.

"You told me it was expensive."

"My choice."

"Yes. It's true."

When they got back to the car, Tim got in by himself...and then was surprised when Ducky drove and Gibbs sat next to Tim. Gibbs didn't say anything, but he kept one hand on Tim's shoulder the whole time. Anytime Tim felt himself start to tense up, Gibbs would tell him to breathe.

It mostly worked.

When they got back to the hospital, all three of them saw Andrew Tait talking with one of the nurses. Her expression was one of tolerant disbelief...and when she saw Tim returning, she smiled and left Andrew standing where he was. He looked back over his shoulder, saw Tim and gave a little wave. Then, he headed off down the street...whistling "The Great Selkie o'Sule Skerry'. Tim tensed up and opened his mouth to say something, but Gibbs' hand was still on his shoulder.

"Breathe, Tim."

Tim took a deep breath and allowed himself to be taken back into the hospital. Gibbs finally let go of him and sent him with the nurse. Tim hoped that meant he and Ducky would be talking to Dr. Levine.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

"Who's Andrew Tait?" Tim asked softly.

The nurse smiled. "That's a more complicated question than you might think, Mr. McGee."

"You can just call me Tim."

"All right, Tim."

"Why is it complicated?"

"Because of who he is."

Tim looked over at her and noticed, for the first time, the playful twinkle in her eyes. She knew who he was and what he'd been acting like, but she still had decided to joke a little bit. It was a surprise...but not a bad one.

"So...tell me."

"Have a seat and let me get you something to eat first. Then, I'll talk while you eat. Agreed?"

Tim nodded. "Okay."

"Good. Take your ease and I'll be back in a moment."

Tim sat down and felt the tension building up again.

"Breathe," he whispered to himself.

The nurse returned with a tray and she bustled about for a few seconds before she'd settle down herself and tell Tim who Andrew was.

"So?" Tim asked.

"Start eating first."

Tim took a bite, just to please her...not because the food tasted good.

"Good."

"That's a matter of opinion," Tim mumbled.

"I'm sure. Now, Andrew...always introduces himself as Andrew Tait. In fact, some of us just call him Andrew Tait all the time...because he likes it."

"Why?"

"We here on Orkney have our ghosts...just like any place, I'd imagine. And...Andrew has a special...connection with the ghosts of Orkney. He figures he knows them better than he knows any human being...and talking with him...you might almost believe it...if you didn't know who he was."

"So...who is he?"

"Well, no one actually knows him very well. He moved here about...fifteen years ago, from the Fair Isle, he said. ...and he claimed to be a direct descendent of one Andrew Tait."

"Okay? Who is that?"

"Andrew Tait is a figure from one of our ghost stories. There used to be, a long time ago, a thing called the Odin Stone. It was near the Bridge of Brodgar in Stenness."

"Where's that?" Tim asked.

"Just west of Kirkwall. It's...in the Heart of Neolithic Orkney. A bunch of sites that date back thousands of years. There are other standing stones...but none like the Odin Stone. Orkney has a long heritage...and the Odin Stone was part of that."

"You keep talking about it in the past tense."

"That's because it's gone now. Near 200 years it's been gone. The farmer who owned the land holding the Odin Stone got tired of its popularity and knocked it down, destroyed it so that no one else could make their oaths."

"Oaths?"

"Yes. The Odin Stone had a hole in the middle of it and couples used to swear through the hole, clasping their hands together, and they would take an oath to love no other. The oath could not be broken, it was said. Now...you'll be wondering how this relates to Andrew Tait."

Tim nodded.

"Well, keep eating..." She paused and Tim took another bite. "...and I'll tell you. There's a story that's told that a woman named Mary had three children. She had sworn an oath through the Odin Stone with a man named..."

"Andrew Tait?" Tim asked.

"That's right. Andrew Tait. They had made an oath to marry no others. He said that he would even come back from death and take their children should Mary wed another man. Then...he died...in the service of the Hudson Bay Company, leaving Mary Tait a widow with very little money and three children to raise by herself...because she had sworn not to marry another man. Well, a mutual friend of Mary and Andrew, by the name of Walter Clouston, had offered to marry her, raise her children as his own and provide for her. He was a good man, but he did not understand the oath and could not understand why Mary would refuse him and his generous offer."

Tim was listening, almost rapt. It was a story he'd never heard, and it was a story that meant something to him, although he couldn't say why.

"Keep eating, Tim."

Tim looked down at his tray, wrinkled his nose in distaste but continued to eat...if only to hear the rest of the story.

"Then, one of Mary's children fell ill because of the poor circumstances in which they lived and Mary, fearful of losing a child, weary of the struggle of her life, spoke aloud to her long-dead husband. She said that she'd remembered the oath, had always remembered it. And she said, 'Oh, I remember, Andrew, and it has cost us dear...! And now that oath stands between your bairns and the good food and the warm house that Walter Clouston offers us. Walter that was ever your friend. Would ye hold me to it now, Andrew Tait? I would ye saw us three this night!'"

The nurse was definitely a storyteller, and Tim was listening, interested as he had not been interested in anything since Sule Skerry.

"What happened?" he asked.

The nurse smiled.

"She fell asleep in her chair until the peat was all ashes and she woke, cold, in the night...and she saw a dark figure standing in the room. She tried to stand, tried to speak...but she couldn't do either one. All she could do was sit in her chair and stare at this figure she knew even though it had been years, even though it was much changed. She knew. The figure walked over to the Bible where Mary kept the letter Andrew had written, reminding her of the oath. Then, the figure took it out of the Bible and wrote upon it. He placed it on the Bible and then walked out through the door which opened without his touch. Then, he was gone...and Mary could move. She ran to the door. It was barred. Back she went to her three sleeping children and pulled them close to her and slept through the night."

"Then, what?" Tim asked, forgetting to be embarrassed that he sounded like a child.

"Mary was awakened by a man pounding on her door. It was Walter Clouston, coming to get her final answer. He asked Mary if she would accept him and then he said, 'I dreamed of Andrew last night... I cannot think he would mind, Mary.' Mary looked at the Bible and whispered, 'I saw him last night.' She walked to the table and picked up the letter...and what do you think she saw? Andrew Tait's signature, but no mention of the oath they'd taken through the Odin Stone. That had vanished. The two realized what it meant and Walter simply stated that he would talk to the minister."

She stopped talking.

"That's it? That's the whole story?"

"That's the ghost story."

"So...then...Andrew Tait is..."

"He says that he's the descendant of one of the children of Mary and Andrew Tait. He came here with almost nothing to his name...only a rucksack and a book about ghost hunting. None of us thought he'd stay, but he did. He's now as much a part of Orkney as any of us. A strange part, but a part, nonetheless."

"So...why is that complicated? I mean...it's a little different, but it's not..."

"Because...there are times, not often, but there _are_ times when I think he has some sort of...connection to another world. Mostly, he's just a bit strange, but sometimes, his strangeness goes further." She paused for a few seconds and then laughed. "It's all ridiculous, of course. Ghost stories are just that. Stories. Perhaps they had a kernel of truth to them at one point, but they're so old now, been embellished so much that they have no more than a kernel."

Tim looked at the tray. It was empty now.

"Very good, Tim. You've eaten. I've told you a story. Now, I have work to do."

"Thanks," Tim said.

"You just work on feeling better, Tim. That'll be thanks enough for me."

The nurse took the tray away and Tim thought about Andrew. Strange he might be...but considering Tim's own experiences, he was not so skeptical. Maybe Andrew _did_ have a connection. If he did...how did he manage it?

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

And Andrew was still at the hospital, lingering around the main desk.

"Still here, are you?"

"I told you before, Becky, we have a connection."

Rebecca smiled tolerantly. "Andrew Tait, Mr. McGee is not a well man."

"Unfortunate for him, I will grant you. But it doesn't remove our connection."

"And how would you know? You spoke for only a few minutes at most...by your own account!"

"It doesn't take much."

"Well...I don't know about any mystical connection you might have, but I do think that he might appreciate a visit from you."

"From me?" Andrew asked in surprise.

"Yes. I told him your story and he seemed interested. I think you might have other stories he'll enjoy."

"Ah, but you've told the best one already, Becky."

"Of course, you'd think that. It's yours."

Andrew nodded unashamedly. "Any man who knows his own story thinks it the best. It's the ones who _don't_ understand themselves who find other stories more fascinating."

Rebecca smiled. "Another of your pieces of wisdom gleaned from your ghosts?"

"No. That kind of sense doesn't need the ghosts to tell it. I figured it out myself...but it makes it no less true."

"So...are you saying that Mr. McGee doesn't know who he is?"

Andrew stood in thought for a while and then shook his head. "No. He knows...but he wishes he didn't. He's hiding himself from everyone...but he can't hide from his own knowledge."

Rebecca stared. It was moments like these, rare though they were, that Andrew seemed to know more than he should. ...but then, he looked around, befuddled.

"Ah..I can't remember which direction is his room. Could you point me the way, Becky, my love?"

"I'm not your love, Andrew Tait. You'd probably have me out making an oath through the Odin Stone."

"No Odin Stone now."

"I'm sure you'd manage...and his room just down the hall. Number fifteen."

"Thank you...and any time you're interested, Rebecca, I'll show you where the Odin Stone truly lies."

"Go on with you, Andrew Tait. I have work to do."

Andrew gave her a cheeky grin and headed off in the indicated direction.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Dr. Levine sat back after hearing Ducky's account of what had transpired. "I must confess that I'm very concerned about whether or not Mr. McGee could tolerate a long plane ride in his current state...but I also know that there's no other way around it."

Ducky nodded. "He's become adamant that he leave as soon as possible. Perhaps he's developed a phobia of the sea. Timothy has never been the most surefooted afloat, and after being alone due to a shipwreck...maybe it's the trauma of that memory causing some of his trouble."

"Then, I hope his family doesn't live on the coast."

"They don't. They live in Ohio. Inland. So...what can you suggest?"

"He doesn't think he can control his...attacks?"

Gibbs shook his head. "No. He said that he doesn't have any control over them. We did help a little bit, but it required holding him down for almost an hour and helping him breathe. We can't do that on a plane."

"I can prescribe a small amount of a hypnotic. Zopiclone is effective at initiating and maintaining sleep. You don't want to use it for a long period of time, but for a flight to Ohio...it would be sufficient. You'll still need to wait until tomorrow. For one thing, you won't be able to get a flight out tonight. You'll have to wait until tomorrow, but you can probably get one then. I'm guessing you'll have at least two connections...which means that you'll have to decide how best to deal with Mr. McGee's problems. The flight from here to Aberdeen is short. Aberdeen to London is short. If you can keep him calm through those two flights, then you can give him the Zopiclone for the flight from London to DC. That should do it, but you'll want to inform the airline of the special circumstances...and Zopiclone does have a tendency to a hangover effect...meaning that he'll feel it after he's awake, perhaps even the day after."

"Okay. Any better ideas?"

"Unless you have a private plane... If you did, you wouldn't have to worry about changing planes and the attendants would know from the beginning what issues might arise. Other than that...I can't think of anything."

Gibbs looked at Ducky...who laughed outright.

"I don't think that's even a remote possibility, Jethro. This hardly counts as an FBI case...and I don't think any of us have the funds for our own private plane."

"Just a thought."

Ducky shook his head. "No. I'm afraid not."

"Then, we'd probably better see about buying tickets."

"Yes...but perhaps we should discuss it with Timothy, first. This will affect him...rather drastically."

"Go ahead. Let me know what you decide."

"Will do," Gibbs said.

They walked out into the hall together, heading toward Tim's room when they heard a call from behind them.

"Mr. Gibbs! Mr. Mallard!"

They both turned back and saw one of the nurses coming toward them.

"Is something wrong with Timothy?" Ducky asked.

"Oh, no. I don't believe so, but I just wanted to let you know that Andrew Tait is...talking with him. Tim was quite intrigued by him and I thought he might prove a worthwhile distraction. It's been quiet down that way all the while you were speaking with Dr. Levine."

"We'll go and check in on him, and if things are going well, perhaps we'll hold off and discussing the details. Time spent with him calm, is time _well_-spent."

Gibbs nodded silently and they went on to Tim's room.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Tim looked up at the knock on the door.

"Come in?"

...and Andrew Tait walked in.

"Afternoon!" he said with a smile. "Becky said you might be liking some company whilst your friends are talking to the doctor."

Tim shrugged.

"You're not intrigued at all? So much for Becky's insights. She thought you were all agog at strange old Andrew Tait."

Tim smiled. "It's an interesting story."

"I'd like to hear yours."

Tim shook his head and looked out the window. There was silence for a few seconds.

"You're different," Andrew said finally."I thought you were like me, but you're not. You're different."

Tim looked back and found that Andrew's relaxed stance had changed to a strangely-intense pose, as if he was truly analyzing Tim's aura or something.

"What do you mean?"

"I was right...that we're kind of the same...but not exactly. You're much deeper than I...deeper than I ever can be."

Tim turned to face Andrew directly.

"Deeper in what?"

"Deeper in that world that makes no sense to anyone else." He laughed, but it didn't lighten the mood of the room. "I'm a joke on Orkney...a good-natured joke. None are malicious, but still...I'm a joke. No one takes my story very seriously. It's all right because I know who I am even if it's something that others can't accept. It's what pays my bills."

"How?"

"Oh...I take people on ghost tours." Andrew smiled. "The ghosts don't mind most of the time. I'm busiest around Halloween, of course. Then, the ghosts are more willing to come out be seen, but they're always there. Just because we can't see them...doesn't mean they're not there. Really, if others were willing to stand still and listen...they'd know." He laughed again. "Not as much as me, but they'd still know. They're just not willing to stand still and listen."

Tim felt that churning that signaled a return of his longing and he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"Ah...it's got you bad, hasn't it."

Tim opened his eyes and just looked at Andrew, unwilling to say anything that might reveal what he'd experienced.

"I don't know what it is, but I can see it in you. I think by the time I leave...I'll know what you are. I have lots of practice. Never been wrong yet."

"I'm a man," Tim said, fighting the sensation. "What's there to know?"

"Are you? You sure about that?"

Tim saw a strange gleam in Andrew's eyes and he didn't answer. Then, Andrew smiled and the gleam vanished.

"You said this morning that I couldn't find peace at Yesnaby. What did you mean?"

"Just what I said. You know it as well as I do. You can't find peace outside. Only inside yourself. Besides...there's a ghost that roams around that area...and the Clumly farm."

"A ghost?"

"Yes. A two men, both workers on the Clumly farm, fell in love with the same maiden and became rivals...and then enemies. It got to the point that one suitor killed the other and hid his body in the barn until nightfall. Then, he took a white horse, put the dead man's body on it and led it to the cliffs of Yesnaby. He threw the body into the sea and then began the trip back to the farm...but he was afraid. He could sense the man's ghost pursuing him. So he urged the white horse into a gallop until the Clumly farm was in sight. He tried to force the animal to jump a dyke, but the horses hooves clipped the top of it and both man and beast died there. The wall has never been repaired. Every time they try, that section falls again. And people have seen a man mounted on a white horse riding through the countryside."

"How many people?"

"Oh, a fair few. Not just me."

"And you just go around looking for ghosts?"

"I don't have to look. They're everywhere. The world of spirits and the world of men are in the same place. They just require different vision to see."

"And you have that?"

Andrew nodded once with that same strange smile. "It's called second sight. I've had it all my life, but it's here on Orkney, the place of my heritage, that I can truly understand it. It's not like those Hollywood movies. It's just another way of seeing. When you're used to seeing it, things aren't so fearsome. It's only when it comes up suddenly that the spirits are frightening."

Tim tried to look away from Andrew's strange gaze, but he couldn't. Andrew leaned in close and stared for a few seconds without speaking a word and then he pulled back, a look of pity on his face.

"Do you know the _varden_, Mr. McGee?"

"No."

"They're the...spirits of people. Everyone has one and it generally manifests as a kind of companion spirit animal. You only see your own when you're about to die, but if you have second sight, you can see other people's. I can see yours, and I'm sorry for what I see. You're not like me."

"What's my _varden_, then?" Tim asked, his voice a whisper.

Andrew stood up and leaned over so that he could speak right in Tim's ear.

"I see a seal, but a seal that is wild and untamed. It fights for what it can't have. It causes you pain, doesn't it."

"Yes," Tim whispered, unable to disbelieve Andrew any longer.

"I can't help you get rid of it, but I see it and I understand why you act the way you do. I'll not ask you to share with me. That's a story that should be kept close and not shared with strangers... but know this: the seal is who you are and you can't live without acknowledging it, without accepting it. You must learn how."

"I can't," Tim said, breathlessly.

"Ah, you can. It means knowing yourself and knowing that who you are won't change."

"This is different than it was," Tim whispered.

"No. I don't know what it is, but your _varden_ doesn't change during your life. It is what it is. You've always been a seal. Always."

Then, Andrew stood up straight, his usual smile on his face again...the intensity gone as if it had never been.

"I understand that you'll likely be leaving us soon, Mr. McGee. You're welcome back anytime. I'll even take you on a free tour. Maybe I'll introduce you to the White Nun of St. Magnus' Cathedral. Good luck to you." He turned and walked out of the room, whistling "The Great Selkie o' Sule Skerry" again.

Tim watched him leave and then felt another surge. He closed his eyes and tensed up.

"Go away," he whispered.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Andrew saw Ducky and Gibbs out in the hall when he left Tim's room. He smiled at them.

"We meet again!" he said.

"How is Timothy doing?" Ducky asked.

Andrew shrugged. "It's hard to say for someone in his situation. I think he's in a bad way, but if he sticks with it...he could be better someday."

"What situation?" Gibbs asked.

"Ah...I don't tell the stories of the living, Mr. Gibbs. It's not my place. I only tell the stories of the dead..." He looked at Ducky. "Like you, Mr. Mallard. Am I right? You have the look of someone who speaks with the dead."

Ducky looked at him with a surprised expression.

"In a manner of speaking," he said.

"Everyone has their own manner of speaking," Andrew said and grinned. He looked at the two men, evaluating them. They were clearly worried about Tim...as they should be, but he could see that they wouldn't believe him if he told them what was wrong. They wouldn't be very likely to believe Tim himself, still less a stranger who acted weird. Besides, Andrew Tait wasn't a man for telling a story when he didn't know it all, and he didn't know even half of it, he was sure. He could see that Tim was fighting with himself and that was something hard for any man to deal with, still less someone in his condition.

"What do you know about him?" Gibbs asked. "What did he tell you?"

"Oh, he didn't tell me anything, but I told you...I don't tell the stories of the living. The living can speak for themselves. I only speak for those who can't or don't any longer. I feel sorry for him, though." He winked. "As one crazy man to another, I can understand why he's having problems. ...or perhaps just as one who understands why he's choosing to say nothing...I can understand. Now, I've got things to do, but if you want to talk to me again, you can get Becky to find me. Someday, I'll convince her to marry me." He chuckled to himself, knowing it to be unlikely and walked away.

He smiled suggestively at Becky as he reached the main entrance. She smiled but didn't give any encouragement. As usual. It was hard to be considered a catch when one was known for chatting it up with ghosts...and it was something he couldn't give up and remain true to himself.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"There's something about that man," Ducky said as Andrew Tait vanished around the corner.

Gibbs just shrugged and walked into Tim's room. Tim was breathing deeply, his eyes closed, arms wrapped tightly around himself. He hurried over to Tim and touched his shoulder.

"Tim?"

"Won't go away," Tim whispered. "It won't go away."

"It will," he said.

"No, it won't. Never."

"Breathe, Tim. Breathe in. Breathe out."

"That can't make it go away."

"Just breathe."

Tim breathed as instructed and after a while, he opened his eyes. His green eyes looked almost gray for a moment. Then, Tim blinked and his eyes looked normal again.

"Do I get to go home?" he asked, almost plaintively.

"Yeah, but it's going to take some time getting everything worked out."

"What?" Tim asked and then looked at Ducky for a few seconds before looking at Gibbs again. "What?"

"We have to buy tickets, Timothy. That can't happen instantly, you know. Kirkwall's airport doesn't have the same kind of service that you find at Dulles. ...but we do need to discuss what we're going to do on those flights."

Tim's eyes kept flicking back and forth from Ducky to Gibbs and then back again.

"What are we going to do?" he asked.

"Dr. Levine has suggested an hypnotic, but that would really only work for the long flight across the Atlantic. The other legs will be so short that it will be difficult to use any kind of sedative or hypnotic effectively. What we have to ascertain is whether or not you could control yourself for the times when we are on the plane for these short hops. It is less than an hour from here to Aberdeen...and from Aberdeen to London. Then, from Dulles to Columbus is also only a bit over an hour. However, we will have time spent in the airport, just sitting around."

"I want to go home."

"I _know_ that, Timothy, but you have to be able to stay calm while on the plane. Can you do that?"

"I don't know...but I can't stay here!"

"You won't. We know that you can't and we don't want you to stay here. Your family and friends are anxious to have you back."

Tim looked away. Ducky looked at Gibbs worriedly.

"One of us will be sitting by you the whole time, Tim," Gibbs said. "We'll help you as much as we can...but will that be enough?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

"Do you want to try it?"

Tim nodded.

"Okay. We'll call and see how soon we can leave."

"What did you tell Andrew Tait?" Ducky asked.

"Nothing."

"He said he knows what's wrong."

"He told me about my _varden_, my animal spirit," Tim whispered.

"Ah."

What more was there to say about that?

"I want to go home," Tim said one more time.

"All right. We'll see how quickly it can happen," Gibbs said.

"Timothy, you _can_ trust us," Ducky said.

Tim looked at Ducky...and then shook his head. "Not this time." He looked out the window and fell silent.

Ducky sighed.

"That's not true, Timothy."

A strange smile appeared on Tim's lips...reminiscent of Andrew Tait's.

"I wish it wasn't. I'm tired." He lay down and closed his eyes.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

It didn't take long to find tickets to get the three of them to Ohio. It took longer to explain the challenge one of those three might face in flying back to the States. Gibbs let Ducky do the explaining, knowing that he could be more persuasive and clearer than Gibbs himself could ever be. Instead, he took it upon himself to call people and let them know just how seriously Tim had been traumatized by everything. He called Tim's parents first.

"_McGees'. This is Sam."_

"Mr. McGee, it's Jethro Gibbs."

"_How is he?"_ No preamble. No faked interest in how Gibbs was doing. Right to the point.

"Not good, Mr. McGee. Something happened to him on the island and he hasn't been the same since...but he's not telling whatever it is. He has outright refused. Physically, he's getting back to a regular diet. His doctor gave us a plan for him to follow."

"_Mentally? Emotionally? There's something wrong?"_

"Yeah. He has...attacks, I guess you could call them. He seems to forget where he is and he feels pain even though there's no physical reason he should. It's happened quite a few times since we got here."

"_What does the doctor say about that?"_

"He doesn't know, either. We think that Tim knows exactly what's wrong with him...but he won't tell anyone."

"_Why not?"_

"I don't know. He doesn't think he can trust us, but I don't know why."

"_How different is he acting?"_

"Like a different person a lot of the time. Even when he's not having an attack, he's still withdrawn and...he's not happy about anything."

There was a long pause. Gibbs guessed that Sam must be trying to absorb all he'd just been told.

"_So...we're getting our son back...but...much altered?"_

"I guess you could put it that way. It's only been a few days, but we're worried about how he'll be on the plane. So we're trying to get all that squared away, but we'll likely be flying out tomorrow afternoon."

"_Epictetus said, 'He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has.' If I can't have my son back as he was...I'll take him as he is. Just get him home, Agent Gibbs. That's all we ask."_

"I'll get him back to you. I promise."

"_I believe you."_

Gibbs disconnected and then considered who to call next. After a few moments, he decided to call Tony and then make him tell everyone else. Tony would be efficient because he needed to be and he wouldn't fall apart like Abby would.

Decision made, he dialed Tony's number.

"_Yeah, Boss? You coming back? How's McGee?"_

"We're coming back, probably tomorrow, although it'll take nearly a day to get to Ohio. ...and McGee's not good."

"_How 'not good'?"_

"No big parties...and he probably won't even seem happy to see any of you. He's certainly not happy to see us."

"_What's going on, Boss?"_

"Don't know. He's not telling. Maybe it's a temporary thing, but McGee doesn't seem interested in letting anyone know what happened to him. ...and something must have happened."

"_So...how is this going to affect you guys coming back?"_

"We're going to sedate him on the flight from London to DC."

"_That bad?"_

"Yeah."

"_Why?"_

"He freaks out, feels pain and panics. We don't know what it is that scares him...only that it's serious. He'll be going to a shrink when we get him to Ohio."

"_Boss...what can we do?"_

"Don't know yet...but McGee is going to need calm more than anything else."

"_You want me to try and tell the others not to go?"_

Gibbs thought about it. "No. I _hope_ McGee will still want to see you all again, but...nothing big."

"_Good. I didn't want to be the one to tell Abby that she couldn't go see McGee when he got back."_

Gibbs laughed. "You don't have to."

"_But I will tell them...what? Should they know about all that?"_

"Yeah. This isn't going to be a short-term thing, I don't think. He'll need a lot of time and there's no point in hiding that."

"_Right. ...but...physically? He's okay?"_

"Yeah. Still is getting used to eating regularly again, but he's okay physically."

"_That's...That's something at least."_

"Yeah."

Something, but not much. ...but neither of them said that. Gibbs hung up and looked at Ducky.

"As prepared as we can be, Jethro...we are. We'll need to check in at every gate and let them know we're there. Our seats are together, and for the London leg, we'll be first to board so that Timothy can take his pills and be asleep before we take off."

"In between?"

"We'll just have to do our best. Not knowing how Timothy will react to the small space, to flying over the water...just to be leaving... We can only guess and try to anticipate."

"Will that be enough?"

"It'll have to be. We have no other option."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim spent the rest of the day in a state that was calm...more or less. He wasn't sure whether that was good or not. After all, calm came before the storm. What if this calm period now meant more difficulties later on?

He saw Ducky and Gibbs off and on, but they were obviously trying to get everything ready for the trip back...giving Tim time to think, and he realized that he'd never really said thank you to _anyone_ on Orkney.

The door opened, revealing Rebecca with a tray for him.

"Dinner, Tim."

"Thanks...Rebecca?"

"Yes?"

"The...The people who...who took me from...the island?" He couldn't bring himself to call it a rescue because he wasn't sure he thought it was right now.

"Yes? What about them?"

"I never...thanked them for taking me from the island."

"Are you sure you're grateful?" she asked shrewdly.

"No," Tim admitted and stared at the unappealing food. "...but they didn't have to...to come and they did...and I should...say thank you for that."

"Well...they may be in the pub on the pier, but I don't know. They're fishermen. They go wherever."

"Is there any way I could find out where they are?"

"I'll ask around for you. By the time you finish your meal, I'm sure I'll have the word."

"Thanks."

Rebecca left Tim to his dinner. Was it better than fish? Absolutely. Tim never wanted to eat another fish for as long as he lived...and seaweed? Never. ...but that didn't mean it was actually _good_. It wasn't. Bland, boring...and not very tasty.

...but he ate it anyway. By the time Rebecca returned, he was finished.

"They'll all be stopping by later on," she reported.

"Oh...I didn't want to...to bother them."

"No bother. They'd have come right away but Patrick had to come over from Westray and Isobel wanted to make sure the clothes she picked for you fit right."

Tim looked at his clothes. He'd almost forgotten about them. On Sule Skerry, worrying about his clothing hadn't really been a good idea because he would have been led to focusing on how much discomfort he felt.

"They're a bit loose, but I'll bet that they'll fit better once you start gaining weight again."

"If..."

"No. When. Doctor's orders."

Tim smiled a bit.

"Where does Andrew Tait live?" he asked.

Rebecca gave a knowing smile. "Ah...well...he mostly lives in his truck during the year. Says it's easier that way. ...but when the cold comes, he has deals with a lot of the guest houses around. They give him a place to stay and he gives them free advertising on his tours. So...basically he lives on Orkney. Narrowing it down further is rather difficult."

"He likes you."

"I know."

Tim wasn't sure why he was pursuing this line of thought, but he was.

"Do you like him?"

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. "I like him well enough."

"How much is that?"

"Now, is that any business of yours?"

"I guess not. He says he's a joke around here. Is he a joke to you?"

"Put that way...no. He's no joke, but what he does...I can't believe what he believes. That's a bit of a hindrance, you might say."

"And that's not something you could get past?"

"Don't know. Haven't tried. Why?"

_Because I'd like to know that there's someone out there who could be happy in a relationship. No matter who it's with,_ Tim said silently.

"No reason...I guess. He seems to accept being apart from everyone...but I don't think he really likes it."

"When you claim to speak with ghosts...that's going to put you apart."

"I guess so."

Rebecca grinned. "You trying to play matchmaker, Tim?"

"Not really. Just want people to be happy."

Her smile softened. "Even though you're not?"

"Maybe _because_ I'm not...and can't be."

Rebecca was silent for a few seconds and then she picked up the tray.

"I'll let you know when they come."

"Thanks."

Rebecca left and Tim clenched his left hand, feeling the absence of the ring he'd worn. He could still see Eira's face when she had put it on his finger...and realized the symbolism of what she'd done...and it still hurt.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Andrew Tait was out at Stenness, on the place where the Odin Stone had stood as best determined by his examination of the old drawings and surviving accounts of it. The socket hole had been discovered not long ago and it helped in his observing. For obvious reasons, the Stone and its history (and its folklore) held his interest most, and he had seen, not only ghosts of people from ages past in this area, but the ghost of the Odin Stone itself, standing in all its monolithic glory. It made him happy to know that the spirit of the Stone had survived its wanton destruction. ...and _that_ was something he did keep to himself. He could see the Stone, but none else could unless they chose to see it.

He sat for a while, enjoying his kinship with the place and then looked at his watch.

_One more visit before he goes, then? What harm could it do?_

"What will he do?" Andrew said aloud. "This man who can't fit into any world completely. It's a pain I wouldn't wish on any man or woman. It's a sad thing."

He sat and listened for a while and then nodded. Tomorrow would be soon enough for a last visit. Just before they went to the airport. With a smile, he leaned back in the grass and listened to the voices all around him, letting the ghosts lull him to sleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Tim?"

Tim had his hand pressed flat against the window, but he turned at Gibbs' voice.

"Yeah?"

"The nurse asked us to come and get you."

"They're here?"

"Yeah. You up to it?"

Tim shrugged. "If I don't do it now, when will I?" he asked.

"True. Come on."

Tim headed to the hall and was surprised when Gibbs put a hand on his shoulder...and left it there as they walked. As they approached the small foyer, Tim could hear Ducky's voice, talking animatedly with the others about...

"Cricket?" Tim asked.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Turns out one of your rescuers is a big cricket fan. They've been trading opinions on it."

Tim almost smiled at the thought...and then stepped into view. He actually didn't recognize the men who rescued him. He had almost no memory of what they had looked like. He stared at them, knowing that these four men must be they, but he felt that he wouldn't know them from Adam had he seen them anywhere else. ...except for...

"Oh, Mr. McGee! I'm so glad that you're safe!" Isobel rushed over from her seat beside her husband, Patrick. She took his hands and wrung them tightly. "I felt so horrible for not remembering the things we'd talked of! Perhaps if I had..."

"Isobel, let the man breathe," Patrick said and rescued Tim's hands. "You feeling more like yourself, Mr. McGee?"

"No...not really, but thank you," Tim said and then included Isobel. "Thanks for the clothes. I needed some."

"Least I could do, and you were very much in need. I promise that all your things...all that you brought went with your parents when they came to look for you."

Tim nodded. He hadn't realized that his parents had looked for him themselves, although he supposed he shouldn't be surprised by that. Then, two others came over. Patrick introduced them.

"This is Gregor and Michael. They were with me on my trip."

Tim shook their hands. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "You didn't have to do what you did. Thanks for sacrificing your time...for me."

Whatever they said kind of flew over Tim's head. His mind was buzzing a bit and he was suddenly really really tired. He looked at the last man.

"I saw you...on the boat," Tim said...which was silly when he thought of it. He'd seen them all on the boat. He must have, but he remembered this man's face.

"Sigur's my name. I talked to you first."

"Sigur...I remember your voice. Thank you for...that." Tim couldn't describe what it was that Sigur had done for him, but that voice had been an anchor when he had been lost in his pain and loss.

"You're welcome for that...and I hope you are grateful for your life eventually."

Tim shook the calloused hand and stared at it for a while... and then nodded. "Me, too."

They didn't stay long. All of them, even Gregor, sensed Tim's weariness and his inability to say much to them, but he thanked them all...and allowed Isobel to give him a hug...and a promise that, should he ever return to Orkney, he'd stay free at Munros'. Then, he went back to his room and went to sleep, almost before Ducky could remind him to at least take off his shoes.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

At three in the morning, Gibbs was startled out of his doze by a soft voice. He sat up and looked over. The bed was empty. Tim was standing at the window, left hand splayed against the glass. ...and he was singing. Singing a song that Gibbs himself didn't know but had now heard the tune a few times.

"_O, cradle row, and cradle go,  
><em>_and aye sleep well, my bairn within;  
><em>_I ken not who thy father is,  
><em>_nor yet the land that he dwells in."_

Gibbs was not only surprised at Tim singing, but that he was singing with a lilt to his voice that he'd never heard before. As the song went on, Gibbs debated whether or not he should interrupt, but Tim didn't seem to be hurting. He seemed...distant...as if he were somewhere else.

"_Upon the skerry is thy son;  
><em>_upon the skerry lieth he.  
><em>_Sin thou would see thine ain young son,  
><em>_now is the time tae speak wi' he."_

It was a mournful tune, and a sad tale being told...and this recurrent idea of selkies made Gibbs wonder if Tim had seen seals while on Sule Skerry. But as the story in the song continued, telling of the death of the selkie man and his child at the hands of the woman's husband, he couldn't help but also wonder what deeper meaning this song had for Tim, considering he seemed to have memorized the entire thing. ...and then, with the last stanza, he stood, worried.

"_Alas, alas this woeful fate  
><em>_This weary fate that's been laid for me.  
><em>_And once or twice she sobbed and sighed,  
><em>_An' her tender heart did brak' in three."_

Tim's voice was choked with tears of his own as he sang and his hand fell down to his side as he stood at the window, staring out and crying quiet tears. Gibbs walked over to him and, as he had made a habit of doing in the last day, he squeezed Tim's shoulder. Tim looked back at him, his eyes looking dark and strange in the dim light from the hallway. He said nothing but his expression was such that Gibbs barely needed to hear anything to understand Tim's current state of mourning. Mourning for what, he didn't know...but mourning it was beyond all doubt.

"Why?" Tim whispered.

"I don't know."

That was all.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Tim's last day on Orkney dawned bright and sunny. Not a cloud in the sky. Tim hadn't slept for much of the night, and Gibbs decided not to force it. He'd be sleeping a _lot_ in the next 24 hours...and Ducky and Gibbs knew they probably would be sleeping very little. The worst period would likely be the two hours they had to wait in Heathrow. What would happen? None of them knew...not even Tim.

Gibbs told Ducky what had happened during the night...not that he actually knew. They both agreed that there wasn't anything they could do about that. It was still the only option they had. They spent most of the morning making sure everything was ready. Tim spent most of the morning staring out the window.

Then, it was time for one last checkup. As he had been since coming to Kirkwall, Tim was healing physically...and broken mentally. Nothing had changed in that respect. However, he was quiet rather than raving as they left the hospital. Dr. Levine left Ducky and Gibbs one last warning, and the nurses fretted over Tim a bit, but when they walked out of the hospital, who should be there to take them to the airport but Andrew Tait. It was only about three miles to the airport from the hospital, but they didn't expect Tim to be walking there.

"Here be your chariot to take you three to the plane," he declared grandly. It wasn't his old truck. Clearly, he'd gone to the trouble of renting a car just to drive them. He waved at Rebecca who smiled at him and then he gestured to the others.

"You didn't have to go to this trouble," Ducky protested.

"No trouble at all. This is a slow time of the year for my business. Best to fill a day so that I don't get into mischief."

Seeing that it was pointless to resist the offer, Ducky and Gibbs put the bags in the back. While they were doing that, Tim walked over to Andrew and looked at him silently. Andrew nodded and then got in the car. The ride to the airport was mostly silent. When they reached the entrance, Ducky and Gibbs got out, both thanking Andrew as they did and then Tim looked at them.

"We'll take our bags inside, Timothy," Ducky said and then gestured for Gibbs to follow suit.

Tim looked at Andrew.

"What is it, Mr. McGee?" Andrew asked.

Tim's voice was low, and he didn't look at Andrew as he spoke.

"I'm not really human...not anymore."

"Seal's trying to take over, is it?" Andrew whispered.

"But it can't. I'm not a seal."

"You never felt this before?"

"Never."

"That's why it hurts. It'll get better."

"How can you know?"

"Because I believe that a man choosing to be who he really is...that can only lead to good things, not to bad. The journey there...now _that_ is hard. Painful for you, and I don't know how long the journey'll be, but you do have a chance...and the pain won't stop if you deny your true self."

"I can't be...this."

"You can, but you'll have to see how you fit in."

"I don't." Tim lifted his eyes and Andrew saw them darken and then return to normal. It was a surprise, the actual physical reaction to a spiritual struggle. "I'm stretched across a chasm...and it's all I can do not to fall."

Andrew put his hands on Tim's shoulders. He looked Tim straight in his turbulent eyes.

"Maybe you _have_ to fall...and you'll find that the fall isn't quite so fearsome as you think it is."

Tim clenched his teeth and shook his head. Andrew let him go and shrugged.

"You'll have to find your own way, Mr. McGee...but your own way has to be true to who you are. Otherwise...you _will_ fall." Then, he smiled. "If it makes you feel special, even the ghosts have noticed your struggle. It's causing some waves."

"Why?"

"A man fighting with a spirit, even if it's his own...that's something that can be felt. Stop fighting."

"I have to fight. I can't lose who I was."

"I don't have the answer for you. I'm sorry, but I'll keep you in my prayers."

"Thanks." Tim looked toward the entrance where Ducky was standing, waiting for him.

"You don't want to miss your plane...or do you?"

"Part of me does."

"Course. Well, go on. I wish you luck."

"Thanks. ...Andrew?"

"Yeah?"

Tim hesitated and then let it out. "You should try actually asking Rebecca out. She won't take you seriously if all you do is flirt."

Andrew looked a bit startled by that but then he grinned.

"Not ready for a certain rejection, I suppose."

"Maybe it's not certain."

"Well...as one mad man to another...I'll take your advice. ...and even though you're flying, not sailing, I'll wish you fair winds and following seas."

"Bye, Andrew Tait."

Andrew's smile widened. "Farewell to you." Then, he got back into the car and drove away without a backward look. Tim walked over to Ducky.

"Ready, Timothy?"

"I guess so. Are you?"

Ducky smiled. "We're as ready as we can be, lad."

"Yeah. ...but is that ready enough?"

"Let's find out, shall we?"

Ducky directed Tim inside the terminal.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

In actual fact, the first leg of the trip was as uneventful as they could have wished it to be. The wait inside the terminal wasn't long and the staff was friendly and helpful. ...of course, it helped that everyone on Orkney, it seemed, knew who Tim was.

He got on the plane last and got off first. During the flight itself, he slept for the beginning of it. There was a bad moment when the plane first went over land, heading into Aberdeen. Tim tensed up, as if he knew right when they'd left the sea behind. He inhaled sharply and closed his eyes. Ducky was right there and helped him through it, although he looked much the worse for the wear by the time they landed.

At Aberdeen, they were able to find their gate quickly, but they were worried about how Tim would fare...whether or not going further inland would actually affect how strongly he reacted. However, they were committed. Nothing to do but press on. So they did.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Aberdeen to London.

Trouble began about halfway to London. Tim began to panic...about what...who knew, but it wasn't as if they hadn't feared this exact event. He became pale as he stared out the window. Ducky noticed and tried to get his attention, but to no avail. Tim bent over, breathing heavily.

"Go back...go back...have to...go back..."

Ducky leaned over so he could speak in Tim's ear.

"No, Timothy. Remember? We're taking you home. You wanted that. You said you _needed_ it."

"No...have to go back...can't...can't go on."

"Yes, you can. We're halfway to Heathrow, now. Not much longer."

Tim shook his head and began shaking and rocking back and forth.

"Jethro," Ducky said urgently.

Gibbs looked over and nodded. Quickly, they switched places and Gibbs took over. He pulled Tim back up and heard the soft whimpering. Placing his hand on Tim's shoulder, he gave a comforting squeeze.

"Breathe, Tim," he said.

"Can't...can't..." The tears started rolling down his cheeks. "Let me go back...please..."

"No. Breathe in. Breathe out. Remember? Slowly."

It didn't seem to be getting through this time. At least he wasn't screaming...yet. Gibbs vaguely noticed one of the flight attendants talking to Ducky, but he didn't pay close attention. Tim was the one needing help...not the flight attendant.

"Come on, Tim. You've got to calm down."

"Can't..."

"Yes, you can."

"No!"

"Yes. You've done it before. You can do it again. Just breathe...breathe through it and let it go."

A moan escaped Tim's lips.

"Falling..." he whispered.

"No, you're not. You're fine." Gibbs spared a thought to wonder if that was the biggest lie he'd ever told in his life. Tim was _not_ fine. He was so obviously _not_ fine that he looked as though he was ready to die.

Finally, as a last-ditch attempt at keeping Tim under some semblance of control, he lifted the arm rest between them, pulled Tim closer and put an arm around him...not a comforting arm draped loosely around...but a controlling one. He let Tim feel that he was right there, that he wasn't alone, that he was okay...even if he wasn't. Maybe if words couldn't help, physical contact could.

Ten minutes, he sat there with his arm around Tim, listening to him beg to be taken back to the place he'd begged to leave, feeling him shaking, telling Tim that he just needed to breathe. Ten minutes...and then, Tim started to listen...he started to relax. He started to breathe more normally.

By the time they were coming in for landing, Tim was slumped against Gibbs...not asleep, just exhausted. Limp as a rag doll. His breathing was still heavy, but it wasn't so panicked.

"Okay, Tim. Time for landing. Back in your own seat."

Tim managed a sad parody of a smile at Gibbs' weak joke and sat up just long enough to scoot over, put on his seatbelt...and then slump against the window, his eyes closing once more. Ducky leaned across the aisle.

"They have called ahead and there will be someone available to conduct us to a private space to wait for our next flight. I don't think Timothy will be up to the crowds found at Heathrow."

Gibbs looked at Tim and laughed humorlessly.

"I don't think he's ready for _anything_."

"Nor do I."

They both sat back as the plane touched down.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

London.

Tim was whisked off the plane at Heathrow, led to a quiet room and the three of them were informed that they'd be told when it was time to board.

During the two-hour layover, Tim spent a long time just lying on the floor, Ducky and Gibbs sitting beside him, trying to get him calm enough to get onto the plane again. They couldn't give him the pills Dr. Levine had prescribed until right after they boarded. They were supposed to start working in fifteen minutes.

Tim screamed only once.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

London to DC.

"Gibbs, party of three, please come report at the gate. Gibbs, party of three."

Tim swallowed and got to his feet. Ducky stayed close beside him as they walked to the gate and then were conducted onto the plane. Gibbs sat beside him first and handed him his pills and water.

"Just take them now, Tim," he said. "No point in waiting."

"And these will really work?" he asked.

"They should...according to Dr. Levine, and I guess he knows what he's talking about."

Tim looked at them and then took a deep breath and downed the pills.

"We can't recline the seat just yet, Timothy, but just try to relax. If all goes well, you'll not know a thing until we land in DC."

"Okay."

About twenty minutes later, Tim's head began lolling about and his eyelids were drooping, but he seemed to be fighting it.

"Sleep, Tim," Gibbs said. "Stop resisting."

Tim started mumbling something, but Gibbs could only catch a word here and there.

"...mine...give...back... not real...ever..." Then, a few words that didn't even sound like words although Tim said them clearly enough. "Eira..."

"What's he saying, Jethro?" Ducky asked from across the aisle.

"Just words, he's getting there."

"Good."

"Don't leave me..." Tim said and then slumped down.

"He's out," Gibbs said with a little amusement as he moved Tim's head so it wasn't flopping around freely.

"Thank goodness. I confess that I was worried the pills wouldn't work."

"Me, too," Gibbs said. "Maybe you and I can sleep for a while on this flight, too."

"What a lovely thought."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Six hours into the flight. They were over nothing but ocean. Nothing but ocean behind them. DC still far away.

Tim didn't wake up, but he started reacting to...whatever it was that he always reacted to...but it was different, perhaps because of the sedative. His breathing became erratic, but the big problem was that he seemed to be overheating. He was sweating profusely.

"Ducky," Gibbs said...quietly so as not to wake any of the other passengers.

Ducky had been asleep but he woke up instantly and moved across the aisle.

"What's wrong?"

"Ask me a question I can answer, Duck. I don't know. But look at him."

Ducky's expression became concerned. "This is not one of the side effects of this medication." He reached up and opened the vent, directing the flow directly onto Tim's face.

"Then, what is it?"

"I don't know, Jethro. Since he can't find conscious expression of his distress, it's being expressed physically? I don't know! ...and I hate to do this, but..."

Gibbs got out of his seat and Ducky took his place...and began trying to awaken Tim from his drugged sleep. Unfortunately, the pills worked _extremely_ well, and Tim was _out_.

"Timothy. Timothy, can you hear me?"

Nothing, just the erratic breathing... Then, he began to talk.

"Why...Why did...leave me? Don't...go! Stay...Stay with me! Sssstay..."

Ducky sat down and took Tim's hand.

"Jethro, you might as well try to get some sleep. I'll take my turn. Timothy is...dreaming, I think...although I can't be sure."

"I can stay up, Duck."

"No, you've been awake for far too long as it is. I'm awake now. I'm fine."

Gibbs didn't really want to sleep, but at the same time, he knew he was tired. He sighed and settled down in Ducky's vacated seat. When the flight attendant walked by, Ducky asked him for a wet washcloth and then assured the man that Tim wasn't ill. He was simply having a vivid dream. Gibbs nearly scoffed at that, but he held his tongue and closed his eyes. Tim's mumblings didn't ever get too loud and after awhile, they faded altogether and Gibbs himself slept.

He didn't wake up until they touched the ground at Dulles in DC. By then, Tim was quiet again, but completely out of it, still. Ducky was still holding his hand and talking quietly to him.

They let the entire plane empty before they made a serious attempt to wake Tim up from his drugged slumber. It took about half an hour of serious effort before he sat up on his own. His eyelids were still heavy, but he did try to stay awake.

"Timothy, are you ready to go?"

"Where?" he asked vaguely.

"To the last flight."

"Oh...yeah..."

Then, he sat where he was and didn't move. Ducky smiled and pulled him to his feet. Tim stumbled but managed to walk while leaning on Ducky. When they got into the terminal, they were relieved to find that the flight attendants had arranged for transportation to their gate. There was another lengthy layover to get to Columbus...and Tim fell asleep again while they waited.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

DC to Columbus.

The last flight was, by far, the easiest from beginning to end. It was difficult to wake Tim up again and to get him onto the plane, but once they had him in a seat, he fell asleep again and, since the flight wasn't nearly as long as the last one, he slept the entire time without being disturbed by the journey, and he woke up when they landed.

"Where are we?" he asked, sitting up suddenly.

"Columbus, Ohio, Tim," Gibbs said. "You're almost home."

The reaction to that statement was strange. Tim came within a hair's breadth of shaking his head, but then he stopped himself and simply stared out the window.

"Are you awake enough to walk on your own this time?" Ducky asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you not remember DC?"

"Not really."

"Just as well. Come, lad. Your parents will be eager to see you."

Tim stood on his own, but nearly toppled when he started to walk.

"Dizzy..."

"That's common enough. You're not used to sleeping pills, clearly. Come. It's not much farther."

Tim managed to find his sea legs, so to speak, and walked to the baggage claim on his own.

Then, Gibbs caught sight of Sam, Naomi and Sarah, all standing together, not approaching, just waiting for them to come. He nudged Ducky and jerked his head in their direction. Ducky nodded.

"Timothy, your family is here."

Tim turned around, saw them...and then very obviously steeled himself to walk over to where they stood. Gibbs made to go after him, but Ducky stopped him.

"No, Jethro. Let this greeting happen as it will. They've been prepared for what they might see. You and I must wait for a few moments...and not interfere."

Gibbs nodded and walked slowly, letting Tim reach his family first. None of them moved for a while, but then, Naomi stepped forward, said something to Tim and then hugged him tightly. After that, another pause and then Tim leaned over and hugged Sam. One more pause and Sarah hugged Tim as well, but he only hugged her for a few seconds before pulling away.

Ducky sped up his pace and joined them.

"Good evening," he said. "You can see that we made it."

Naomi nodded but was clearly worried about what she saw in her son.

"Thank you for bringing Tim home. Is that everything?"

"Yes. We have all our luggage by some miracle."

"Good. Um...the others arrived earlier, but they said they'd wait until tomorrow to come see you, Tim. They're in a hotel in Athens."

Tim had said nothing so far and didn't seem inclined to speak.

"Let's go," Gibbs said. "No sense in hanging around here."

They walked out as a group, but Tim wasn't really a part of it. He'd drifted away again. As soon as he sat down in the car, he fell asleep.

...but no one spoke at all during the drive to Athens. They all looked at Tim, but no one said a word.

Finally, more than twenty-four hours after leaving Orkney, Tim, Ducky and Gibbs arrived in Athens.

Ducky and Gibbs accepted the invitation to stay the night at the McGee home...if for no other reason than to be there if Tim had another breakdown. They bedded down in the living room...and quickly fell asleep. No matter how much Tim had slept on their journey, _they_ were extremely tired.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat on his bed in his room, looking around at a world that was no longer his own. He took a breath and walked to the window. It was a strange view, even though it was familiar to him. He opened the window as wide as it would go.

The sea was gone. There was nothing of the sea in the air.

It was as though he'd been tossed into a void.

...and the void was home.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Tony, Ziva, Abby and Jimmy arrived at the McGee home the next morning, not too early, but Abby hadn't been able to resist coming as soon as she could convince the others.

It was a distinct disappointment to find that Tim had not yet emerged from his room when they got there. Gibbs and Ducky were both awake, if not exactly chipper after the flight. Sam and Naomi were in the kitchen getting breakfast ready. Sarah had been downstairs but was back in her room, not exactly thrilled by the state of her brother and unsure what to do about it.

"Sorry for invading," Tony said with a smile that was only partially faked. "Abby was ready to run here on her own."

Naomi shook her head. "No, that's fine. I'm sorry Tim isn't down yet. He...maybe he's still asleep. I don't know. The times I looked in on him, he was awake, but when I checked on him an hour ago, he was asleep finally. Whether he still is...I don't know."

"Bad?" Ziva asked.

"Yes," Naomi said. "Very."

"Now that he's home, though, he'll be okay," Abby said.

"We can only hope so," Sam said.

"Did you not sleep at all, Ducky?" Ziva asked. "You still look very tired."

"We slept, but not much. I doubt that the sleep Timothy got was very restful," Ducky said with a yawn. "Pardon me."

Jimmy chuckled...and Ducky glared at him.

"What happened on the way?" Tony asked.

"A few tense moments is all," Ducky said.

"As in what?"

Gibbs looked at Ducky for a moment before answering. "As in he had a few breakdowns but he only got out of control once."

"Breakdowns?" Abby repeated softly.

"Yeah."

Suddenly, there was a lot of noise from upstairs and then they heard Sarah.

"Tim...what are you doing?"

That was enough to get Gibbs into motion. He leapt to his feet and ran out of the kitchen. Tony was only still for a moment before he charged after him, too used to following to bother asking questions. He thought he heard the others coming behind, but he didn't waste time looking back. If Gibbs thought it was serious enough to run, then so did Tony.

Tim was just at the top of the stairs, curled on his side...barefoot and shirtless. Sarah was kneeling beside him, holding tightly to his arm.

"He was starting to run!" she said.

Gibbs sprinted up the stairs and rolled Tim over. His eyes opened and Gibbs again was taken aback by how much darker they seemed to be. Tim looked at him, almost panting, but didn't really see Gibbs himself.

"Have to get...back...need...can't...please..."

He tried to sit up, but Gibbs held him down. Tony paused near the top of the stairs and just...stared.

"Tony...if you're here, you're going to help," Gibbs snapped.

That kicked Tony's brain back into gear. "What do you need, Boss?"

"Help me hold him down. He's going to try to run."

"Where?"

"Who knows? ...maybe _he_ does. I don't know. Just hold him."

Tony nodded. Sarah backed away, giving him room to kneel by Gibbs. He took hold of Tim just as he started to scream as if someone was torturing him.

"Let me go!" he shrieked. "The sea...the sea...can't...fight...now..."

Tim began to struggle, trying to get away from Tony and Gibbs, but he was no match for the two of them.

"Tim, you're all right. You're safe here. Calm down," Gibbs said.

Tony rather thought that Tim wasn't hearing a word Gibbs said, but _he _was, and with how easily Gibbs was taking this strange event, it must be par for the course since they'd first seen Tim.

Suddenly, Tim let out a moan and curled back into a fetal position, hyperventilating and letting out soft whimpers with each exhalation.

"Let me go!" he said again, but more breathlessly than he had before.

"Tim, listen to me!" Gibbs said loudly.

"No...no...no...no..."

Gibbs looked down at Naomi and Sam and then gestured. Naomi didn't hesitate. She hurried up the stairs, kneeling on the last one. Then, while Tony continued to keep Tim from hurting himself or anyone else, she brushed away his shaggy hair and forced a smile.

"Tim, can you hear me? It's your mother."

Tim was still whimpering and mumbling unintelligibly.

"Tim, where does it hurt?"

Tears formed in his strange eyes and streamed down his cheeks.

"Everywhere...it hurts everywhere...won't stop...always comes back...hurts..." Then, he struggled again. "Let me go!"

"No way, McGee," Tony said. "Dream on."

"Not dreams...not dreams..."

Naomi looked at Tim for a few seconds and then she looked at Gibbs and Tony.

"Do you think you can get him down the stairs?"

"Maybe," Gibbs said.

"Do it," she said, her voice low but filled with authority. This was _her_ family and _her_ house. No one had more authority than Naomi did at that moment.

Gibbs just nodded.

"Come on, Tim," he said. "We're moving you down."

As soon as the pressure was eased up, Tim began trying to get away again, but this time, they used his momentum to get him up and then down the stairs. They moved carefully since they didn't want to drop him and Tim wasn't really helping them walk much.

"Where?" Gibbs asked.

"The couch in the living room," Naomi said. "Sam?"

"Way ahead of you," Sam called and was into the living room before anyone else.

It was a bit of a battle getting Tim to the couch, but they managed. Tim fought sitting down there, but they forced him down. Then, Tony sat down by Tim's legs and kept him from getting away. ...and he was treated to a moment that almost made him feel like an intruder. Sam, in his wheelchair, moved as close as he could. Naomi sat on the arm, but Sam took hold of one of Tim's hands and then pressed Tim's shoulder back into the couch and looked him in the eye.

"Tim...you can hear me." It wasn't a question...but Tim didn't respond.

"It doesn't matter whether or not you admit it. I know you can. Listen: Harold Coffin. 'One often learns more from ten days of agony than from ten years of contentment.'"

Tony looked at Gibbs who said nothing. Abby had her arms around Ducky, mascara streaking her face. Ziva was simply standing quietly...a sure sign that she was afraid.

"Your turn, Tim. Tell me."

Tony could hear tears in Sam's voice, but none were shed by him. He never looked away from Tim...who was still nearly hyperventilating.

"Come on. Think."

Then, suddenly, Tim looked right at Sam, not just in his general direction. "'The pain I feel now is the happiness I had before.' C. S. Lewis."

"'Many an inherited sorrow that has marred a life has been breathed into no human ear.' George Eliot."

Tim closed his eyes and tensed up...but after about a minute, he responded again.

"'Oh! dreadful is the check - intense the agony -  
>When the ear begins to hear, and the eye begins to see;<br>When the pulse begins to throb, the brain to think again;  
>The soul to feel the flesh, and the flesh to feel the chain.' Emily Bronte."<p>

"And I'm sorry for that, Tim," Sam said softly...but before he could reply with another quote himself, Tim reach out and took hold of Sam's shirt, pulling him down. He whispered in his ear and then spasmed once more and fell silent...unconscious for the moment.

"What did he say?" Naomi asked.

Sam looked at his son with the expression only a parent can wear in times of greatest sorrow. "'There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.' Maya Angelou. What story?"

"The one he won't tell anyone, I fear," Ducky said, still comforting Abby.

"What do we do now?" Sam asked, sitting back in his chair...but not letting go of Tim's hand.

"Wait for him to wake up," Gibbs said softly. "If it's like the other times, he'll be okay."

"How long?"

"Depends."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim opened his eyes and knew exactly where he was. What he wasn't ready for were all the other eyes on him as he looked around. He sat up, and then was grateful for the hand which steadied him...until he looked at the hand and then followed it up to see that it was Tony.

"Tony...hi."

"Good to have you back, Probie," Tony said.

Tim looked around at everyone else...and there seemed to be a _lot_ of people in the room.

"Hi," he whispered.

Abby came over and knelt down in front of him.

"Tim...I'm so glad you're back," she said. "Can I hug you?"

"Yeah."

Abby hugged him, but not for very long. Then, she stood up and backed away. He looked at them all and felt suddenly really embarrassed by what they must have seen.

"I...need to shower," he said and started to stand.

He instantly started to wobble, and Tony was right there, steadying him.

"Thanks, Tony. I'm okay."

"Your face says otherwise, McGee," Tony said, but he did let go once Tim seemed less likely to fall over.

"I just...need to shower. I'll be down again...in a bit."

He looked at his parents. His family. People who shared his blood. Why did they seem so distant from him? He loved his family. He always had. Why was he unsure of that now? The confusion disturbed him and he shook his head at them and then walked away. Up the stairs to the bathroom. He showered, but then realized that he hadn't taken any other clothes with him. Well, he wasn't really in the mood to get dressed anyway. That would require him to go back down and face all those looks, see all those...those _people_.

A towel wound securely around his waist, Tim sat down on the toilet seat and ran his hands through his shaggy hair. He felt no interest in cutting it, even though it was too long. It got in his face. It didn't look good. ...but he didn't want to cut it.

The minutes lengthened as he sat there, not wanting to leave the bathroom.

Then, there was a soft knock.

"Tim."

Tim sighed, stood and unlocked the door. Then, he sat down again.

"It's unlocked," he said.

Naomi came in and sat down on the edge of the tub.

"Everyone's waiting."

"Why are they all here?" he asked softly.

"You know why, Tim. They thought you were dead...and you're not."

"Yes, I am. I'm not the same as I was, Mom. I really..._really_ different."

"That doesn't make you dead. It doesn't remove the past 30 years of your life! It makes you different, not dead."

"No...you don't understand."

"Then, tell me...so that I can."

"No."

"Why not, Tim? What is it that you're hiding?"

Tim couldn't lie, not to his mother.

"I love you, Tim. I really do, and I'm _so_ glad to have you back, but you can't hide whatever it is."

"Yes, I can."

Naomi sat quietly beside him for a few minutes.

"We've scheduled an appointment with Dr. Jonas. Is that all right with you?"

Tim nodded. "It won't help, but I don't mind."

"He was really good for your father."

"Dad's problem...isn't even remotely related to mine. Dr. Jonas...is a good person, a good doctor...but he's not...qualified for what's wrong with me. No one is."

"You have to tell _someone_, Tim. You can't keep it bottled up inside you. That won't help."

"I don't have a choice."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I really don't, Mom." Tim looked at her. "Not even...you and Dad. ...I couldn't... No. Just no." He looked back at his hands.

"How much longer will you be?"

"They all saw me," Tim said. "...like...like that."

"Yes, they did."

"I don't want to..."

"They're worried about you, but mostly, they're just happy to see you, Tim. Don't deny them the chance to try and help."

"They can't help, Mom. No one can help. I'm not...not saying there's nothing good from them...being here...but they can't help. It just...can't happen."

"Will you come down anyway? You need to eat, if nothing else."

"I didn't...get any clothes."

"I'll get some from your room. Any preferences?"

"No. I don't care."

"All right. Wait a minute."

She walked out of the bathroom. It didn't take long before she came back in with one of his old t-shirts and some sweats.

"Right now, I think most of your old clothes would fall right off you," she said with a sad smile. "And no one will think less of you for not dressing up."

Tim managed to smile back.

"Come down when you're dressed, Tim. Breakfast will be ready."

Naomi closed the bathroom door behind her. Tim looked at the clothes she'd brought and then discarded the towel and dressed. He wasn't excited about joining everyone, but he knew he should be.

He looked at himself in the mirror. That surge had hurt more than almost all the others combined. He hoped that didn't happen very often. As he stared at himself, he looked at his own eyes...for almost the first time since he'd been taken from Sule Skerry.

His eyes weren't green anymore. There was more than a hint of...not just gray. They were a lot darker than they had been.

"I don't want this," he whispered at himself. "I don't want this."

It appeared, however, that his body wasn't listening to what he wanted or didn't want. ...and that scared him. How much would he change? That was why he couldn't stop fighting. As different as he was now, how much more would he change if he just let it happen? What if it took away _everything_ that he had been before?

Tears came to his strange eyes and he wiped them away.

"I can't...I can't let this happen," he said.

A few more minutes alone in the bathroom and the tears faded. Finally, Tim opened the door and went down to join the others.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Andrew smiled as he walked back to his chosen spot by the spirit of the Odin Stone. She'd said yes! A date with Rebecca. He would be lying if he claimed not to be nervous about it. He'd been pining after her for years...and it had been surprisingly easy to get her to agree to a date.

He sat back and looked at the translucent stone glimmering in the moonlight. At some point, he'd be happy to let Rebecca see it...if she would.

He was about to lie down when he sensed someone approaching. He sat up and looked around.

"Hello?" he called.

The wind picked up but he was used to that, and at this time of year, it wasn't a bad thing. This presence, though...

"I can tell you're here...and you're no ghost. Where are you?"

A dark shape stepped out of the shadows.

"You are Andrew Tait." It was a female voice...but not human.

"That I am. Who are you?"

"You have a link beyond the human world."

"Yes. How do you know?"

"We know."

"Who is we?"

"I would like to ask a favor of you, Andrew Tait."

"I don't like promising things to beings I don't know...and can't see. Even the ghosts usually come out."

The figure stepped out further. Andrew could see her hair blowing about in the wind. He still couldn't get a good look at her face, but a definite solid shape. That was good enough. He stood up.

"Who are you? What's your name?"

"Names do not matter."

"Okay...what is it that you want?"

"If I were to bring something to you, will you send it where I tell you?"

That was not a request he had expected.

"Sure...what is it?"

"When I find it, I will tell you."

"You have to find it?"

"Yes. When I do, I will come back here. I will give it to you to send to the one who should get it."

"I'll do that. Is it big?"

"No. It is very small. That is why it may take time."

"Who is it for?"

"You will know...when it is time. Not until then."

The figure turned away and began walking toward the Loch of Stenness.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

The woman stopped and looked back at him for only a moment. Then, she stooped and picked something up off the ground.

"Home," she said softly.

Then, he couldn't see her clearly as she bent over. In a moment, she was gone and he heard a splash into the loch. Quickly, he ran to the bank, but all he saw was a figure swimming away from him.

A seal.

Andrew's eyes widened. He'd seen a lot since coming to Orkney...but he'd never seen a selkie.

...until now.

"That's what you saw on the skerry, Tim McGee," he whispered. "Something awakened the seal inside you. It was her. She opened that up in your mind whether you wanted it there or not." He sighed. "I'm sorry for you, Tim McGee. Very sorry."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim had two more bad attacks in the next three days. His friends had promised to come again as soon as they could, but they all had work to do...work which called them back to DC. It was with great reluctance that they left, but Tim hadn't really been eager to speak with them. ...of course, he hadn't really spoken much at all; so it probably was less about them and more about himself. He had managed to get back to a calm state and had spoken with them a little bit...but not much more than that. It was clear that, even calm, Tim wasn't doing very well. The dramatic nature of his personality shift had shocked them, even though they'd been warned.

How could one really understand until seeing for oneself? In this case, seeing was believing and now they really knew that there would be no quick return of their friend and colleague. Tim had a long way to go. The worst of it was that they didn't even know where he was starting from. They only knew the end of the journey.

...or so they thought.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Tim, hi. Why don't you just go on in, I'll join you in a moment."

Tim nodded at Dr. Jonas' instruction and headed into the office. Dr. Jonas looked at Naomi and Sam. He'd been at the memorial service, but before that, it had been literally years since he'd seen them. As Sam's therapist when he'd tried to commit suicide, he had the taint of a dark period everyone wanted to forget. It was the way the job went sometimes.

"Yeah...he's pretty bad. I'm sorry that this is how our paths are crossing again."

"We just hope you can do _something_ for him," Naomi said. "We're not expecting miracles."

"Just hoping for them," Sam said. "We know from personal experience that you're a good doctor."

"I don't work miracles, Sam. I didn't with you and I don't think I will with Tim, either. If you're right and he doesn't want to tell _anyone_ what happened to him...I can't force him to speak. I can't make him listen to me. I can't make him trust me."

"Just do what you can," Naomi said. "That's all we ask."

"I always do what I can. You're going to wait for him?"

"Yes. We'll just be out here."

"All right." Dr. Jonas left them in the waiting room and walked into his office. Tim was sitting on a chair, not looking at anything, his gaze toward the windows but very little was actually getting in.

Dr. Jonas closed the door. Tim jumped.

"Hi, Tim. I'm glad to see you alive, although I could have wished for better circumstances."

Tim shrugged.

"Your memorial service was quite nice."

"Memorial service?" A brief glimmer of curiosity, but no more than that.

Dr. Jonas sat down across from Tim and smiled.

"Yes. Over two months ago. It was determined that there was no evidence of any possibility of your surviving. Your parents decided to have a memorial service to say good-bye."

"Yeah."

"You don't seem surprised by that."

"I knew they would have thought I was dead."

"Why assume that?"

"It wasn't an assumption. I knew."

"How?"

Tim shook his head.

"That's part of what you don't want to tell me?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not? What's keeping you from telling me? Doctor-patient privilege applies. If you don't want your family to know, I won't tell them."

"It might keep you from telling other people, but it wouldn't keep _you_ from deciding that I was crazy."

"You're sure that would happen?"

"Yes."

"Tim, you've been having...attacks since you were taken from that island, am I right?"

Tim shook his head. "Before that."

"Before...meaning...?"

"Meaning while I was on the island."

"You were having this same problem before you left the island?"

"Yes. They happened there, too. They started there."

"You know why?"

"Yes."

"And you won't...or can't tell anyone?"

"Can't."

"Okay."

Tim was tense and afraid. Of what, Dr. Jonas didn't know, but he'd seen fear in enough patients to recognize it even when it was being hidden.

"What are you expecting to get from meeting with me, then, Tim?"

A faint smile appeared on Tim's face. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"That's right. I'm only meeting with you...because my parents want me to. You can't do anything." Then, Tim took a deep breath and let it out quickly and swallowed.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Another attack?"

"Maybe."

"You're not sure?"

"I feel like this...all the time. ...sometimes...it just gets worse is all. Sometimes...it doesn't."

"So...you don't think I can do anything for you?"

"Not about this."

Dr. Jonas watched as Tim closed his eyes and began breathing deeply. This wasn't an act. Tim was definitely feeling some kind of pain, be it physical or mental. He wasn't sure what the source of it would be. It wasn't due to isolation. He'd swear that it was something different...maybe something he'd never seen before.

"Perhaps I can do something."

"Like what?"

"If you won't tell me what's wrong, maybe I can help you deal with the attacks when they come."

"How?"

"Tell me something, first. What causes you the most distress? Is it some sort of pain? Or is it something that hurts in your mind?"

Tim hunched his shoulders. "Yes," he whispered.

"Both?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. ...and it scares you." _That _wasn't a question. He could already see the answer.

"Yeah."

"Okay. There are some things you can do that will help you lessen the fear of the attacks...which, in and of itself, probably makes things worse. Will you trust me that far?"

Tim opened his eyes, and Dr. Jonas saw how frightened he was...but he did nod.

"Yes...yeah, I will."

"All right. Now, will you humor me and lay down on the couch in the stereotypical style?"

Tim managed a weak smile and nodded. He walked over to the couch and lay down...but his tension didn't ease at all. Dr. Jonas sat down beside Tim, but out of his direct line of sight.

"Now, I want you to close your eyes and think of a place...a place...where you feel safe."

"There's nowhere safe from this," Tim whispered. "I can't get away from it."

"It doesn't have to be a real place, just a place where you feel safe...a place where you can relax. Somewhere you've been...or somewhere you've seen in a picture. Even a place that you make up...just a place where you know you'll be safe. No one will hurt you. Nothing can frighten you. You're safe in this place...a place of refuge."

Dr. Jonas kept his voice low and calm as he continued speaking to Tim, guiding him to a more relaxed state, keeping his breathing slow and even. It took longer than it did with most of his patients, but after a while, Tim was nearly completely relaxed, breathing deeply and not afraid. It wasn't hypnotism, but guiding the mind to a state of relaxation, where one focused only on this process, generally helped, even if only for a few minutes before real life returned. Dr. Jonas actually had copies of this that he sometimes gave to his patients to listen to at home, but even better was if they could internalize this process of relaxation and control themselves without outside aid.

At the end of the session, Tim headed back out, slightly calmer, but still tense. He stopped at the door. Before Dr. Jonas could open it, he looked at him, almost with desperation.

"What is it, Tim?"

"What color are my eyes, Dr. Jonas?" Tim asked.

Dr. Jonas was surprised at the question, but he looked.

"I don't think I've ever paid attention before, but I'd describe them as a dark...gray-green."

Tim nodded and seemed actually worried by the answer.

"Why did you want to know? Haven't you looked at them yourself?"

"I have...I just...wanted to know what you saw."

"What do you see when you look at your eyes, Tim?"

Tim blinked at him and then turned his eyes toward the floor.

"That's what I see. Gray...dark gray...and green."

"Why is that a problem, Tim?"

He shook his head.

"What is so important?"

No answer. Tim opened the door and walked out of the office. He looked back once but said nothing.

Dr. Jonas talked with Sam and Naomi for a few minutes, setting up the next appointment and explaining about the relaxation recording and how it could be used. He didn't mention Tim's question about his eyes, but he thought about it for a while after the McGees left. Why would that be so important for Tim? Why would his eye color be something that scared him?

The questions bothered him even after he got home...to the point that he searched in his office until he found the program from Tim's memorial service. There was a color photo inside, opposite the listing of speakers.

"Green," Dr. Jonas said. "Light green. Not gray."

He sat back and thought back. Tim's eyes at his session had been darker. Definitely darker...and grayer.

"What could change his eye color?" he mused.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Days went by and Tim gradually began to have his violent attacks less and less...and that was good. Sam and Naomi were thrilled at that...but Tim remained incredibly withdrawn, talking as little as possible, seeking human interactions very rarely. When he did, it was as though he was suddenly starving for company...but as soon as he had it, he seemed to regret it and would pull away.

Three weeks after his return to Ohio, he still refused to tell anyone about his experience. What little he did say mostly dealt with physical deprevation. Whatever had gone on in his head...that was still stuck in there. He met with Dr. Jonas who tried to get Tim to open up, but nothing doing. Tim was not interested in opening up.

There _were_ moments, however. Times when Tim showed some interest in the world around him...

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Dad?"

Sam looked up in surprise. Not only was Tim _initiating_ a conversation, he had called him _Dad_. He hadn't really even used names much since he'd come back, another of the strange changes. He quickly set down his book. Research could wait.

"What is it, Tim?"

Tim was standing, almost in the shadows. The sun was going down, but Sam hadn't yet turned on the lights in the study.

"Come on over here, Tim."

Tim shuffled over and sat down, head bowed.

"What's wrong?"

"You had a memorial service," Tim said softly. "Dr. Jonas told me."

"Yes, we did."

"What did you...do at it? You didn't have a body to bury."

"We did a life sketch, a eulogy...and then we decided just to have an open mic of sorts...let your friends say something if they wanted to."

"Friends?"

"Yes. Old school friends...friends from NCIS...teachers...people like that."

"Did they have much to say?"

Sam smiled. "Yes, actually. We had to turn people away after an hour and a half of that. They had the chance to talk to each other at the...dinner afterward...but it was hard to get them to stop."

"Don't lie."

"I'm not. I'm serious, Tim. You don't believe me?"

Tim shook his head.

"Well, you can see it for yourself. We have the whole thing recorded."

"Really?"

"Yes. You should watch it. It's not many people who get to see how they were really perceived in life."

"Kind of morbid, isn't it?"

"You'd be surprised. I don't think the fact that we thought you were dead came up more than a handful of times."

Tim's head remained bowed.

"Tim...please, tell us what's wrong."

"No."

Sam sighed. He had known it wouldn't work, but he had to keep trying. Keep trying until something gave. Nothing had yet.

Tim stood up and started to leave but then he looked back.

"Dad?"

"What, Tim?"

Tim came close to him. The first time for that.

"What color are my eyes?"

Sam leaned forward.

"It's too dark in here. Let me turn on the lamp."

Tim shook his head and actually touched Sam's hand to stop him from flipping the switch.

"No. Just tell me what color my eyes are."

"Why, Tim?"

"Tell me."

Sam cocked his head to the side and tried to see.

"They look dark, Tim. ...but it's getting pretty dark in here. I need light to see."

"They're dark," Tim said. "They're dark." Then, he stood up and backed away.

"Tim...what do you mean?"

"It means...nothing." He turned and hurried out of the study...and Sam heard the footsteps going up the stairs. Naomi could get up there, but Sam couldn't. It was an easy way to cut down the access people had to him.

"Sam? What happened?" Naomi asked.

Sam sighed. "I don't know. Have you...noticed anything different about Tim's eyes?"

"His eyes?"

"Yeah. He was asking me what color they were...but he seemed really upset by what I said."

"What did you say?"

"That it was too dark to see, but they looked dark to me."

Naomi looked puzzled and looked up toward where their son must be.

"Come to think of it...I don't know if he's looked me in the eye more than once or twice since he's been home."

"I don't think I've looked him in the eye either."

"Why would he be wondering about his eyes?"

"I don't know...I guess we can add it to the list of things we don't know about Tim anymore." Sam took a deep breath. "'No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.' C. S. Lewis."

Naomi sat down on the arm of the chair Tim had vacated.

"I think I learned that already...I just thought that when he came home it would go away. What do we do now?"

"Get out the memorial video...and make sure Tim knows where it is. He seemed...vaguely interested in seeing it."

Naomi smiled. "Vaguely?"

"That's more interest than he's shown up to now."

"True. I'll get it out...and make sure he's all right. It's been a few days since he had an attack. I...I don't want to find that he's having another one without help."

"See if you can get him to come downstairs again. I hate that it's so easy for him to hide."

Naomi nodded and stood up, pausing to kiss Sam quickly, before heading up to check on Tim.

He wasn't having an attack. He was sitting alone and wouldn't look away from the window.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Three days later, Tim ventured downstairs while the house was empty. He could hear his mother talking to someone in the yard. His father was at a meeting on campus. He'd heard him mention it.

Tim wandered into the family room and saw the video of his memorial service sitting out. He stared at it for a few minutes and then stuck it into the player. There were a few minutes of music as people came in and sat down. Then, he saw his parents talking with someone at the front of the room. Tim looked more closely at the video and recognized the P.E. teacher from his old high school. What was Coach Schwab doing there?

Finally, Sam rolled over to the microphone.

"_Thank you all for coming. I wish I could have had the chance to see you all in happier circumstances."_ Sam stopped for a moment and looked down.

Tim watched as his father struggled to control his emotions. He sat down on the floor near the TV and touched the screen...as if he could comfort his father somehow from his position in the future.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Has there been _any_ improvement, Naomi?"

Naomi took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She'd been getting questions like this ever since Tim had come back.

"In some ways, but there's a long way to go, I think, Melissa."

"If you need any help, you know you can always ask."

Naomi nodded. "I know that. Thanks. I'd better get back inside."

"You sure you're all doing okay?"

"Yes. We're doing as fine as we can be at the moment."

Naomi smiled and headed back into the house. As soon as she opened the door, she heard voices from the family room. It took her a moment to realize what it was.

"_And now...Naomi and I would like to give you the chance to share memories you have of Tim, experiences... It would be a great chance for us to know more about Tim's experiences in other places."_

Quietly, she closed the door and walked to the living room. She saw Tim sitting there, apparently drinking in the service. It brought tears to her eyes.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_...and now, I can see Jethro glaring at me, telling me that it's time to give someone else a chance to share. I know I can ramble on, but I did want to take the opportunity to tell you some of my impressions of our mutual colleague and friend."_

Tim couldn't help but smile as Ducky kept talking.

"_One last reminscence, then, and I'll cease."_

"Right," Tim whispered.

"_The first time Timothy came down to my domain in Autopsy, he was justifiably unsettled by seeing some of the...more gruesome sights there. ...and yet, he continued on and did not let it distract...not for very long anyway. In the end, he and Abigail were instrumental in saving the life of the woman who had been taken, and in spite of the discomfort and anxiety, Timothy did a marvelous job. It led to his being added to the MCRT not long after."_

Gibbs actually walked up to the mic and whispered in Ducky's ear. Ducky laughed and nodded.

"_I've been told that I'm done. Thank you all for listening to an old man ramble."_

Tim wondered if Gibbs was going to say something but he went back to his seat and Tony hurried over.

"_Yeah...so...I usually make jokes. I don't really...go for the serious thing. I had in my head to tell a whole bunch of embarrassing moments that would get people laughing, but...well, first of all, Ziva threatened to kill me if I did."_

There were chuckles all around.

"_So I'm not going to do that."_ Tony suddenly got serious. _"McGee and I wouldn't ever have given each other the time of day if we met on the street. Honestly, I would have tormented him mercilessly...which I did anyway...and he would have seen me as nothing more than a frat guy. That's why I'm glad we ended up working together. He was a good friend...most of the time."_ Tony grinned. _"...and I was lucky to know him. That's all I have to say."_

Tim smiled and then jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked over as Naomi sat down beside him..and was surprised when she said nothing but instead sat down beside him and watched with him.

A lot of others came up and spoke. Tim was frankly shocked that so many people had something to say about him.

"_Tim was my closest friend. I will miss him very much. He accepted me without question when I first came to NCIS. I have cherished his friendship."_ Ziva was uncharacteristically emotional, but she did smile. _"And I was glad to have someone who also enjoy reading Harry Potter."_

Another round of laughter as Ziva sat down. Abby shot up and hurried to the microphone, but she said surprisingly little, although she did say it fast.

"_I really like Tim. We dated for a while, but even after we stopped, we were friends. I love him and...and I miss him."_

Then, she started crying and sat down. Again, there was a line of people. Old friends from college, a few of his teachers...even Coach Schwab from high school which was funny considering how miserable he'd been in P.E.

After a few more minutes, Tim watched as Naomi began to approach the microphone, but as she passed by Gibbs, he touched her arm and whispered to her. Then, he stood and walked to the front. Tim was again surprised by what he saw. Gibbs didn't look like his usual confident self. He looked...guilt-ridden, actually. What in the world could he feel guilty about?

"_I don't have much to say,"_ Gibbs said. _"But Tim deserves something. He took a lot that was dished out to him. He is a good man, a great agent...and I'm honored to have had him on my team."_

Then, he sat down without another word.

"He blamed himself," Naomi said softly.

Tim stared at the screen as Naomi spoke, telling people that they were ending the formal service and everyone was welcome to join them for a dinner. Then, the music started up again.

"Why?"

"Because he let you leave, didn't stop you."

"No one could have stopped me," Tim said. "Nothing could have stopped me. It had to happen."

"Why?"

"Because...it did."

"Tim..."

"Is love supposed to hurt?" Tim asked suddenly. There wasn't much volume, but he was watching as people hugged and talked...and ate.

"It can."

"But is it supposed to? Can you really love someone who hurts you?"

"In what way, Tim? What do you mean?"

Tim didn't know how to phrase it...so he didn't. He looked at Naomi.

"What color are my eyes?" he asked.

He watched as his mother stared at him and then her own eyes widened in surprise.

"They're...darker than they were, Tim. Almost gray."

Tim nodded.

"How did that happen?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not, Tim? Why is it that you won't tell us what you know?"

"Because...I can't."

"You can, Tim. You can trust us. We've never violated that trust."

Tim shook his head and felt a pang. "No...I'm sorry. I can't."

Naomi sighed. Tim knew he'd hurt her feelings, but he still couldn't see any way to really explain himself without being seen as insane. Then, a surge caught him off guard and he closed his eyes, feeling his body tense at the desire to get to the sea. As he hunched over, he felt his mother's arms around him.

"I'm here, Tim. It's okay."

He tried to think of his safe space, but it wasn't coming to his mind this time. He whimpered and tried to tamp down the wildness. Deep breaths came faster and faster until he was hyperventilating.

"I've got you. It's okay."

Tim struggled to get away, struggled to get to a place that was thousands of miles away. Most of him knew it was impossible, but he couldn't help but try and obey an instinct that had been completely foreign to him before his time on Sule Skerry.

Naomi didn't let him go and he wasn't fighting as violently as he had in the beginning. Still, the desire wouldn't leave him as he wished it would.

"Let me go...please. Let me go."

"I can't do that, Tim. You know that."

Finally, Tim broke down in tears.

"I hate her," he wept. "I really hate her."

"Who? Who, Tim?"

The name burst out of him in a scream of pain.

"Eira!"

He began to sob, all strength being leeched from his body by the mere mention of the one who had awakened this torment inside him. The agony of memory combined with the pain of an unfulfilled instinct and he curled in on himself weeping piteously for the misery of his life.

"I hate her..."

He could see her as if she was standing right before him, as she had just before leaving him, abandoning him for a world he wanted but couldn't have.

"I hate you."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

"Who is Eira, Tim?" Naomi asked, shocked that Tim had said something, that he had revealed something...and that...that something was a woman.

"It's all her fault," Tim cried. "All her fault. She's the one who did this to me... This wouldn't have happened without her. I hate her..." Then, Tim groaned and curled into a tighter ball. "...and I loved her...and... It's not fair! It hurts...and she knew it would!"

Naomi held Tim more tightly, but he wasn't trying to get away now. He was just sobbing. She waited to ask questions, no matter how much she hoped that Tim would actually _tell_ her something.

After about half an hour, Tim began to calm down, but he was still crying.

"Tim?"

Only a shuddering inhalation.

"Tim, who is Eira?"

Tim shook his head.

"Tim, sit up, please."

She lifted him, but she remained sitting on the floor. Tim reached out, shaking, and turned off the TV.

"Tim, you need to tell me what you mean. Who is Eira?"

"You won't believe me."

"How sure are you?"

"One hundred percent. You won't believe me. You'll think I'm crazy."

"Why do you think that?"

Tim stared at the floor, eyes red, body shaking.

"Because I would never have believed it was possible. The only person who believes me...everyone thinks _he's_ crazy."

"Please, Tim."

Tim lifted his eyes, his strangely-gray eyes and looked at her. For a long moment, she could almost _see_ him trying to decide if he dared.

"You...can't tell anyone," he said finally, his voice still shaky. "Not Dr. Jonas, not anyone at NCIS...no one."

"Don't ask me to keep it from your father."

"I know you'll have to tell Dad...but he won't believe it either."

"Why are you so sure?"

"Because I know that you won't. No one will."

"Tell me."

Tim swallowed and turned away from her, choosing to stare out the window instead.

"I wasn't alone Sule Skerry."

"You said you were."

"I said there weren't any people. There weren't. No people. ...but I wasn't alone."

"Who...or what was there?" Naomi asked, almost afraid to know.

"Both a who and a what. Eira was there...and Erlend...and others."

"Eira...the one you loved?"

Tim nodded and closed his eyes.

"If she wasn't a person..."

"She was a selkie, Mom. So was Erlend. So were the others. There were...seals, but she was a selkie."

"A...selkie?"

"Yes...I know you don't believe it. She called me there...in my dreams...singing that song over and over. Then, Erlend called me to the boat. He sailed it around Westray...and then he left me in the boat, putting on his seal skin while I watched. He hated me. Then, the boat sank. I would have drowned, but...but Eira helped me to the island."

"Why did they want you on the island?" Naomi asked carefully.

Tim smiled distantly. "Because...I'm descended from a selkie...on Dad's side. If you go back far enough...and apparently, I'm the true descendant. The only problem was that I hid it inside me...and now that it's out, I can't control it. I want to go back to the sea...even though I've never been there...even though I can't because I'm not a selkie. I'm...I'm a human, but I have a seal inside me. That's why it hurts. That's what Eira did. She woke it up inside me and I can't stop it. ...that's why my eyes are changing. That's why I seem so different. ...because I _am_ that different. I'm..." Tim turned toward Naomi, looking desperate. "...I'm a selkie, Mom...but stuck in a human body...and I don't know how to deal with it."

Naomi was shocked. She really had no idea what to say to Tim's declaration. It did seem crazy...and impossible...and yet it was clear that Tim believed it.

"I know you can't believe it...but it's true...and you said you wouldn't tell anyone except Dad."

"Tim..."

"No. No one will believe it...and they'll lock me up. ...and I'm not crazy."

"But you know that it sounds crazy."

Tim laughed. "Yeah...yeah, I know. Why do you think I haven't said anything, Mom? Why do you think I've kept this to myself? I was there for three months. I wasn't hallucinating." He wiped away the streaks of tears on his cheeks. "...and I hate her for...for what she did. ...and I hate that I..."

"Loved her?"

Tim nodded. "And she left me alone...left me to face all this...alone. It's not fair. It's not right."

"You're sure that this really happened, that it wasn't something that happened in another place?"

"I'm sure."

"Why did they need you?"

"Because of who my ancestor was," Tim said, but he was clearly hedging a bit. That was okay. Naomi didn't push for details...not right now.

"Tim, this is..."

"Crazy. I know." Tim took a quick breath. "But it's true. Eira called Dad...using the same song. She sent for him."

Naomi took hold of Tim's arm. He looked at it and then lifted his eyes to her.

"You can't tell anyone, Mom."

"I told you I wouldn't, but I think it's a mistake."

"It's a lot of things...but it's not a mistake." Tim looked away from her again and pulled away. "We weren't...we pretended we weren't. Maybe she never was...but I was. I was...and it makes me sick." He stood up and walked away.

Naomi knew she couldn't leave it like this. "Tim, wait."

Tim turned back.

"What?"

"I don't know about a lot of the things you've said...but I know that if you were hurt by someone...you need to talk about it. Keeping it hidden, buried inside...that's not going to help you get through it."

"Nothing will help, Mom...because that's only part of the problem." Then, he walked out of the room. She heard him run up the stairs and shut the door to his room.

Naomi sat back. Of all the things Tim could possibly have said, his story had never even occurred to her as a possibility. He was right. This wasn't something she could believe...but neither could she believe that Tim was making it all up. The promise she made was one she had to keep. If she violated Tim's trust, he'd be lost to them forever. She couldn't betray her son, but it didn't make it any easier to bear. Still seated on the floor, Naomi rubbed a hand across her face, wishing that she knew what to do...because she didn't.

Tim didn't come out of his room for the rest of the day. When Sam came home, Naomi told him what Tim had said. ...and Sam didn't say _anything_ at first. He just looked at her, stunned by what Tim had said.

"What do we do about this, Sam?" Naomi asked.

"I have no idea."

"He believes it. ...so much so that...that _something_ must have happened...but this?"

Sam was silent for a while.

"...and yet...my dream. You can't tell me that I was influenced by what Tim believes since...since he wasn't here when I had it. That song he was obsessed with. How do we explain that? We can't. ...but Tim just has."

Naomi sat down. "Sam..."

"I don't know if it's true, Naomi. I don't. ...but as you said...something happened. Tim says that it was..." Sam smiled a little. "...selkies. What if it's true?"

"How _could _it be?"

"I don't know. I can't even fathom...but there are so many things we don't understand."

"Even if it is true...how do we...help him?"

"I don't know that either. ...but I do know that we can't...abandon him."

"Of course we can't, but I don't know how to help him...and he doesn't want anyone else to be told."

Sam took Naomi's hands in his.

"Then, we'll do our best...to be there for him...and to convince him to trust someone else."

"Dr. Jonas?"

"Maybe...Maybe not. Maybe he needs to trust someone who _doesn't_ have the power over him that Dr. Jonas would. I don't think he would ever abuse that power, but if Tim is afraid of being seen as crazy...then someone who has the power to declare him as such isn't the person we want to hold out as a person Tim can trust."

"Who else then?"

"Maybe someone we trusted to help get him home."

Naomi smiled and squeezed Sam's hands.

"Maybe you're right."


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

"_...well, if you feel that I could be of any service, you can certainly call on me at any time."_

"Thank you, Dr. Mallard."

"_You are sure that you can't tell me anything that Timothy shared with you?"_

"I'm sorry, but he wouldn't tell _me_ unless I promised to keep it to myself...but it's not anything that you could imagine it to be. What we're hoping is that, with time, Tim will be able to trust other people. We don't know what to do about what he said...except hope...and convince him to trust someone else."

"_You think he will trust me?"_

"That's what we're hoping."

"_What about the others?"_

"I know getting here from DC is a long trip, but as often as any of you can come, we'd appreciate it...even if Tim isn't going to yet."

"_I'll pass the word along."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Over the next few months, that's what happened. Sam and Naomi worked on getting Tim to trust. They didn't make many comments on what he had said, but they stressed the fact that they wanted to help him get better, that whatever had happened, they would be there for him. Without explaining Tim's story, they also invited the NCIS people to come around more often, asking them to help in preparing Tim to go back to DC eventually...if Tim was ever ready for it. They did all they could, and yet Tim remained withdrawn.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The knock on the door momentarily attracted Tim's attention...but only for a moment. He looked at his mother and then walked back up the stairs to his room. He knew that his parents weren't sure what to do about what he had said...and so they didn't really seem to be doing anything at all. Tim could admit to himself that he had harbored a false hope that perhaps they would know what to do about his experience...but, of course, that would require that they believe him first, and he knew they couldn't.

He heard the door open and a muffled voice. Male, but he couldn't discern more than that. Tim sat on his bed in the darkness...or at least the dimness of his room. The days passed in a haze for him. He didn't know what day of the week it was. He didn't know more than that it was light outside meaning it was daytime. Beyond that, he didn't know...and although he'd tried, he couldn't bring himself to care either. It was just too hard to fight this neverending battle against that part of himself that was not human and worry about the human world. The human world was full of things like that: dates, hours, deadlines...people. While he knew that he had cared about all that before, he also knew that he didn't now...not because he didn't want to but because he couldn't.

Someone knocked on his door.

Tim debated whether or not he wanted anyone to come in, no matter _who_ it was.

"Probie! Come on! Let me in!"

Tim stood and walked to the door. He opened it.

"Hi," he said.

"Hey, McGee," Tony said, almost gently. "Mind if I talk to you for a while?"

Tim shrugged and sat back down on his bed.

"Why don't we go outside, then?"

"Because it won't make any difference," Tim said.

"Difference to what?"

"To me."

"Well, it does to me. It's like you're in a tomb in here, Probie."

Tim looked around. Tony had no idea. His whole world felt like a tomb.

"Tim?"

The tone of Tony's voice made Tim focus on him.

"Yeah?"

"Come on." It was gently cajoling, not demanding.

"Okay."

Tim got up and followed Tony out to the backyard. He looked around at the trees, the bushes...so much greenery. Where were the rocks? The wind-scoured scrubby grasses? Where–?

"Tim!"

Hands on his arms and Tim blinked a few times. Tony's face was in front of him.

"I'm not on Sule Skerry," Tim whispered.

"I know. You're in Ohio."

Tim stepped back, away from Tony and walked to the middle of the yard.

"What did you want?"

"Man, McGee, I don't know," Tony said, rubbing at his hair. "I want to help you, but I don't know how."

"You can't. It's okay. I don't expect you to."

"_I_ expect me to, and it's _not_ okay."

"Yes, it is. No one can help me. Not anymore."

"Who could before?"

Eira sprang to his mind and Tim winced at the stab of pain that memory brought to him, a memory of her soothing away his pain...the reminder of all he could never have. He sank to the ground with a groan and wrapped his arms around his head.

"Talk to me, Tim," Tony said, his voice close beside him. "How can you know that I can't help when you won't tell me what's wrong?"

"Just...Just tell me it will go away...even though I know it won't," Tim said through clenched teeth. "It always comes back. Always. Always."

"It will go away, Tim. I don't know how or when, but it will. It's got to."

"Why?"

"Because this...this isn't you and you need to get back to being you again...and you will."

Tim shook his head. That would never happen, even if he could win his fight. He would never be back to that.

"Isn't there anything else I can do?"

Tim shook his head and felt the tears building up. Which pain was worse? His physical pain or his heartache from the loss of Eira? It didn't matter. Neither pain could be removed by some friendly encouragement.

There was a long silence and then, Tony spoke again.

"You know what, Tim? That's okay. If I can't do anything to help, then I can help you pass the time. How about that?"

"Okay. How?" Tim whispered.

"Movies, Tim! How else? Won't fix anything, but it'll pass the time. How about it?"

Tim opened his tear-filled eyes, looked at Tony's grinning face and then nodded and allowed Tony to help him stand.

They spent the afternoon making their way through the _Star Trek_ movies. Tony ended up staying the night and leaving the next morning.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"It was very nice of your friend to come."

"Yeah."

"Tim..."

"No."

Naomi sighed. "All right."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Another day. Another visit. Another try. Was it going to work? Probably not. Ducky had come often to talk to Tim, but had never succeeded in breaking through into the other world Tim spent most of his time living in. Ziva came. Abby came. Jimmy came. Gibbs came. They came singly or in pairs, and not once had they managed to get Tim to reveal what had happened to him, what was causing his continued anguish and pain.

...but that was no reason not to keep trying. A few weeks after Tony's visit, Ziva, Abby, Jimmy and Tony decided that they would all come together and talk to Tim. They had formulated a plan they thought would be sure to help Tim gain some ground. Would it go all the way? No, but it might help Tim take even a single step.

"Are you sure this will actually help?" Jimmy asked. "I mean, it's kind of weird."

"You're the expert on weird," Tony said. "I think it's a great idea."

"Of course you do," Ziva said. "It was _your_ idea."

Abby laughed and looked at the house as they headed for the front door.

"It can't really make things worse than they are," she said. "I think it will help. Tim needs to know that we always cared and...and we can talk to him about what we've learned about him. I think it matters." Without waiting, she hurried up her pace and knocked on the door.

There was a long wait and they wondered if Sam and Naomi had remembered that they were coming. Then, Ziva saw the living room curtains twitch.

"He is watching us," she murmured.

"What could have done this to him?" Abby asked.

No one got a chance to answer because the door opened and Tim was standing there, that strange look in his eyes, his almost-inhuman presence. He'd gained back a lot of the weight he'd lost, but he was still skinny...and for some reason, his hair was still long. He wasn't cutting it although he was clearly shaving.

"Hey, McGee," Tony said quickly. "We're invading. Is that okay?"

Tim nodded mutely and let them come in. They followed quietly as he led them to the living room.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Well...we're giving you some stuff," Tony said.

"It's not really a gift because it was your stuff," Jimmy added. "...but we only took it because your parents said we could!"

"Jimmy! You're ruining it!" Abby said.

"Ruining what?" Tim asked, his eyes flicking from one to another.

"Well...your parents asked us to help them clean out your apartment...you know...after they thought you were dead," Tony said, a little uncomfortably.

"Yeah. They told me," Tim said without any indication of how he felt about it...if he felt anything at all.

"Well, we...each took something, a keepsake," Abby said. "It was something to help us remember you...since you were...gone."

Finally, they were rewarded with a flicker of curiosity.

"What did you take?" Tim asked.

"That's what we came for," Jimmy said. "To show you, to give your stuff back." He held out a thin package wrapped in newspaper. "Here's what I took."

Tim took it and opened it.

"It's a good record," Tim said.

"Yeah, and the reason I picked that was because...well, it always surprised me that someone like you could enjoy something so old-fashioned like records. Every time I listened to it while you were gone, I would smile because I remembered that the computer expert at NCIS liked records."

Tim didn't look up in response to Jimmy's declaration, but he smiled wistfully...and then set the record aside.

"I'm next!" Abby said and held out a shirt which had been neatly cleaned, pressed and folded. "It's one of your MIT shirts, Tim. I've been wearing it a lot, but I got it professionally cleaned; so it doesn't have my germs or anything. I promise."

Tim took the shirt, looked up at her briefly, and smiled again.

"I...I never minded your germs before," he said softly...and then swallowed and looked away.

"I'm glad," Abby said with a smile that Tim didn't see. "I picked that because I remember how proud you were of your MIT degree back when you first started...and how you told me that the best part of MIT is that it was your name backwards. I would put on the shirt and then go look in the mirror so that I could see your name backwards."

A soft chuckle, quickly suppressed...but no one missed it and Tony pressed his advantage. He handed Tim his keepsake...wrapped in Christmas paper. A flash of the old Tim as he raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, it was all I had. I don't buy much wrapping paper," Tony said. "Open it."

Tim carefully unwrapped the "present" and let out a surprised laugh.

"Where did you find this?" he asked.

"In your stuff. You opened it."

"I listened to it," Tim said. "Once."

"Are you sure, Probie?"

Tim looked at Tony. "Yes. Only once."

"Well...I listened to it more, then...because I was actually surprised you would bother to listen to something I got you knowing you wouldn't like it."

There was a long moment of silence and then Ziva held out a rather heavy sack.

"I took more than the others, but it seemed right not to separate the set."

"Harry Potter," Tim said.

"Yes. I remember when you accidentally admitted to reading the books...and I denied it, but later on we did talk about our shared interest...even if it was covertly. It reminded me of our friendship...something I have greatly missed. We have _all_ missed your friendship...Tim."

Another long silence.

"Me, too," Tim whispered.

"Will you speak with us?" Ziva asked. "Not about your experience if you do not wish to, but about yourself."

"What do you mean?"

"When we cleaned out your apartment, we learned things about you, Tim," Abby said. "Things you never told any of us. We thought it was sad that we'd never get the chance to ask you about them...but now we can. Will you let us? Will you talk to us?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Your playlists," Abby said.

"What about them?"

"Why?"

Tim shrugged. "Seemed to fit."

"But..."

"I never thought anyone else would see them. I just wanted to organize my music and those seemed right."

"You put some...interesting songs in them, McGee," Tony said with a smile.

"It's...how I...saw you. ...what I thought I knew."

Then, there was one of Tim's strange fits. He took a deep breath and let it out in short spurts, tensing up and hunching his shoulders. He closed his eyes tightly.

Instantly, Abby sat beside him and hugged him.

"It's okay, Tim. It's okay."

"Not enough," Tim whispered. "Never enough."

"What isn't enough?"

Tim didn't reply. For a few minutes, he just breathed and then he pulled away from Abby and got to his feet. It was clear that the time of sharing was over, ended by that continuing evidence of his changed nature...but there was something of his old self inside him and they wished it would come out more.

But it didn't that day. Tim excused himself and didn't come back. The others were forced to concede a momentary defeat and leave.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"...and I must confess that I was quite undone by the whole thing. I had not expected, nor even dared to _hope_ that my feelings might be shared. It was to my detriment that I showed my skepticism, but she forgave me in the end and still attended the gala with me. Quite the lady, I must say."

Tim's attention, whether he was listening to Ducky or not, seemed to be entirely on the clouds in the sky. Ducky followed his gaze.

"It's a beautiful day, Timothy."

Tim nodded but didn't speak.

"Were there any good days during your time on the island?"

"Not really...only days that were better than others."

"Was the weather bad?"

"Most of the time it was cold and windy."

Short answers, giving information but not that which was really wanted.

"Timothy...what is it that you're really doing with your time?"

He never thought he'd get an answer. Tim never answered the important questions, but this time he did, even if he left Ducky none the wiser.

"Fighting."

"Fighting whom?"

Tim looked at him and Ducky noticed for the first time that Tim's eyes were a different color than they had been. Gone was the bright, clear green. Now, Tim's eyes were dark and cloudy...green tinged with gray. Tim met his gaze and then looked away, choosing to keep his secrets to himself...as usual.

Ducky sighed.

"Timothy, might I make one suggestion?"

Silence.

"Perhaps, you might try visiting your old life in DC. Not permanently, but seeing who you were may lead you to accept more easily who you now are. I want to see you happy and whole again."

Tim turned away from Ducky quickly, but not before a glint of tears appeared in his eyes. Ducky stopped Tim from leaving.

"What's wrong, lad?"

Tim stood still for a few seconds and then turned back to Ducky, silent tears coursing down his cheeks.

"That's...That's what I want, too...but I can't seem to get it."

"Perhaps if you shared what it is that causes you pain..."

"No!" Tim turned away and this time ran back into the house, leaving Ducky behind to ruminate on what little had been said.

It hadn't really told him much, but it did show that Tim himself was struggling. ...but against what or whom was this struggle? It made so little sense that Tim felt this need to fight but still also to keep his secrets from everyone but his parents.

When he headed back to DC a few hours later, Ducky found himself simply wishing for _something_. He chose not to try and figure out what that something was. He just knew that something needed to happen and so he hoped for whatever was needed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Andrew Tait sat alone in the grass, happily anticipating his date the next day. It should have been tonight but Rebecca had been called into work unexpectedly. He had spoken with a few of the ghosts around and then returned to his favorite spot near the Odin Stone.

This time, he sensed the stranger's approach and turned to greet her, remembering how she had felt before.

"You're back," he said.

There was a strange smile on her lips.

"Yes."

"I didn't think it would take so long."

"Nor did I, but it has been found."

As she came toward him, Andrew noticed her rounded abdomen and his eyes widened. Her sharp eyes missed nothing.

"You have guessed?"

"I think so."

"Well done, Andrew Tait." That was all. She held out a small package. "You will send this?"

"Yes. To Timothy McGee."

"Very well done."

"What message should I send?"

"None. It needs no message. He will know it and understand it when he sees it."

"All the same...we humans generally expect something."

"I am not human."

"I know...but Timothy is...mostly."

Again, that strange smile. "Mostly. Very well, Andrew Tait. You may add this to the message: 'It is still a game to the seals. It is not a game to me.' That is all." She turned to go.

"Wait!"

"Yes?"

"May I ask you a question or two?"

"If they are brief." She turned back toward him.

"He's the father."

"Yes."

"Will the child be human?"

"They will be selkies."

"Is it hard to change your skin in your condition?"

"Yes. More so as the time draws nearer."

Andrew Tait looked at her carefully. "Then, why do it?"

For once, Andrew's piercing gaze told him nothing...but his instinct told him everything.

"Because it is what must be done. I must leave." She returned to her seal form and left him standing in the grass.

"Yes...what must be done," he repeated and looked at the small object.

It shouldn't be hard to find an appropriate address.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Another couple of weeks saw some gradual improvements in Tim. His attacks faded in intensity, but there were still times when he would feel that phantom pain, when he would come to his parents and beg them to make the pain go away...

...and his eyes remained that strange dark gray-green.

But he talked a bit more. He smiled sometimes. His sessions with Dr. Jonas helped him learn to control the surges when they came.

Still, in spite of Ducky's suggestion that Tim return to DC, Naomi and Sam were worried about allowing it. Tim still had so very far to go.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was having a pretty good day...as far as his days generally went. A good day meant that he was aware of the world around him...and the passage of time. He was aware enough to be bored by all the unending time stretching out in front of him. Painful or not, he was still alive. He sat in his dad's study and stared at a book. He couldn't really be said to be _reading_ it. Not a single word was penetrating.

The door opened slowly.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?" he asked listlessly.

"You got something in the mail."

Tim was interested for a moment. "Me?"

"Yes."

"From whom?"

"Someone named Andrew Tait, from Kirkwall."

Now, Tim was genuinely interested.

"What is it?"

Naomi smiled, clearly happy to see Tim express some real curiosity.

"I don't know. I didn't open it. It's to you."

She held out a padded envelope. Tim took it and looked at it for a few seconds. Then, he carefully opened it and dumped the contents out onto his lap. There was a smaller package and a folded piece of paper. Tim looked at the package and then at the note, not sure which would be better to open first. Finally, he chose the letter. If there was something frightening in the package, perhaps the letter would explain it. Setting the package aside, he unfolded the letter. He didn't look at her, but he could sense his mother's presence, her worry and interest. ...and he was actually glad of it.

_Timothy McGee,_

_This is Andrew Tait writing, and while the main reason is not of my doing, I think I would not be out of bounds in saying thanks for your advice regarding Becky. Whether anything will come of it or not, I don't know, but I'm enjoying finding out._

_As to the reason for my communication, a woman came to me near the Odin Stone and requested that I send this to you. Her only message was the following: It is still a game to the seals, but it is not to me. _

_I guess you will know what that means. I don't...but I did see something that tells me your situation is even more complicated than I thought. I'm sorry for that._

_Andrew Tait_

"Tim, are you all right?"

Tim realized that his hands were shaking. Deliberately, he put down the letter and picked up the package. He knew what was in it. Slowly, he opened it and let the cool metallic ring fall onto his palm.

"Tim?"

His fingers clenched around the ring and he brought the resulting fist up to his lips.

"Tim, what is it?"

It was almost as though he could feel her again, just by seeing the ring. He was back on Sule Skerry. He was feeling her slip the ring onto his thin, bony finger, not realizing what it would mean. Accompanying those feelings were his own incredibly mixed emotions about Eira and what she had done to him and for him.

"Tim! Tim, please, talk to me."

Tim couldn't respond. Those words were coming from somewhere else, somewhere _not_ where he himself was. He felt his whole body begin tense up, all his attention centered on the ring in his hand.

"Sam!"

Tim heard the words. He just couldn't respond to them. Instead, he felt as though his entire being was turning inside out, the seal getting stronger and wilder.

Then, there were arms around him, rocking him gently back and forth.

"Tim, talk to us. Please."

"Eira," he whispered and pulled briefly away from the comforting arms before realizing that there was no chance that he could get to her. The arms tightened around him, anchoring him to a world he only could visit occasionally. He stopped fighting.

"What's in your hand?"

"Eira," he said again. Just the name, one he both hated and loved.

The arms stayed around him, but a hand covered his clenched fist and gently pulled it down.

"Let me see, Tim."

Another voice from far away.

Two hands now massaging his fist, silently persuading him to reveal the object of his torment. He resisted. He knew the two people with him didn't believe what had happened. He knew they were worried that he was simply crazy. He knew that they wouldn't understand what they saw...not unless he explained. But how could he explain to his parents that he had...had sex with a selkie, that she was pregnant with twins, that neither he nor any other member of his family would ever see them because they had to be selkies? How could he explain all that? He couldn't.

"Tim, let us see what it is."

The voice from a distance, but the hands were still insistently opening his fist. He couldn't prevent them and finally he let his fingers unclench and he revealed the ring. The dark blue of the enameled waves seemed to draw him further away from the human world, back to the selkies. He could hear Eira in her seal form, swimming through the sea. He could almost see her. He was almost there...

"Breathe, Tim!"

Tim took a deep breath and looked around, pulled away from that world, back to the human world...staring at his father, feeling his mother's arms around him. Then, he looked at the ring in his hand again. It was just a ring.

"What is this, Tim?" Sam asked.

"A ring," Tim whispered.

"Where did it come from?"

"I bought it. On Orkney."

"What is it to you?"

Tim took the ring, turned it over and over. Should he do what felt so natural to him to do?

Without speaking, he looked at his parents and then took the ring and slid it slowly onto his left ring finger, remembering how it had felt when Eira had done that to him. Then, he looked at them again...and saw a bit of comprehension in their eyes.

"Tim..."

"I...I loved her," he whispered. "If...she...would have...could have...but it was impossible. From the beginning it was impossible. Why did she find this? Give it back? I threw it away!"

"Did you want to?" Naomi asked.

"Doesn't matter. Nothing matters. Names don't matter. Not to her. Not to any of them."

He looked at the ring again and shook his head.

"Why? Why did she do this to me?" He pulled firmly away from the comfort of his mother's arms and ran to his room. He closed the door and curled up in a ball on the floor by the wall.

That night, he had another strong surge. It was bad enough that it woke his parents and took them two hours to calm him down again. They suggested that maybe he should put the ring away, but once he saw it, he couldn't do that. Tim began to wear it every day...on his left hand.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Sam stayed home one day while Naomi got a break from watching over Tim. It was hard, exhausting, worrying about what would happen...if anything. Worrying if nothing at all would happen. Which was worse?

He'd been working in his study with the door open when he heard footsteps on the stairs.

"Tim?"

No response. A few seconds later, the garage door opened and closed. Worried now, Sam rolled over, hoping that Tim wasn't having another episode. He hadn't since that first night, but they still happened and they were still frightening.

He opened the door to the garage and saw Tim standing in the midst of all his things. They hadn't ever figured out what to do with them, not wanting to give them away; so they had taken up residence in the garage.

"Tim?"

"These are my things," he said softly, not turning around.

"Yes."

"You didn't throw them away."

"No. Why would we?"

"'There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief.' Aeschylus."

"I'm not grieving, Tim. You're alive. If you have healing to do, I'm willing to wait. Khalil Gibran said, 'The timeless in you is aware of life's timelessness; and knows that yesterday is but today's memory and tomorrow is today's dream.'"

No response.

Sam took a breath and spoke again. "'Memories are the treasures that we keep locked deep within the storehouse of our souls, to keep our hearts warm when we are lonely.' Becky Aligada."

"What about when we're lost?" Tim asked.

"Maybe they could help you find your way back."

"Probably not. I think I'm lost for good."

Sam rolled down the ramp and negotiated his way over to where Tim stood.

"Why don't we give it a try?"

"We?"

"Yes. We. I don't understand all that happened to you, Tim, but I want to help you. Let's look at your memories. 'God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December.' James Matthew Barrie."

"'Sadness is always the legacy of the past; regrets are pains of the memory.' I don't remember who said it."

Sam looked at the ring on Tim's finger...taking in anew all the implications of where Tim chose to wear it, and then he reached out and picked up a book.

"Why did you buy this book, Tim?" he asked.

Tim looked at it.

"It was required reading for a course I took at MIT."

"Why did you keep it?"

"Because...Solzhenitsyn said that 'Literature becomes the living memory of a nation.' This is part of it."

"Have you ever read it again?"

"No...but I read it once."

Sam smiled. "You kept it because you're a packrat, Tim."

A brief laugh.

"Yeah...I...was."

"You're still Timothy McGee no matter _what_ happened."

"Am I? Am I really?"

"Yes," Sam said firmly. "You are."

Tim stepped forward and picked up a record.

"This is the first record I ever bought."

"And you played it until it was ruined and you had to get a new copy."

"No one would ever have guessed it."

"Definitely not. I think Abby was the most shocked."

"They saw it?"

"Are you kidding? I never saw people so eager to know you as your friends from NCIS were. There's so much they never knew about you, so much they thought they'd never get to know."

Tim picked up the record and slipped it out of its cover. Then, he walked to the record player and put it on the B side. Sam smiled as the first notes came out and then the voice.

"_Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy  
><em>_Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry  
><em>_Sunshine on the water looks so lovely  
><em>_Sunshine almost always makes me high."_

Tim suddenly sat down on the floor, arms wrapped around his knees and just closed his eyes. Sam rolled over close to Tim and then maneuvered himself to the floor. He put an arm around Tim's shoulders. Tim sat stiffly beside him as the song continued. Sam didn't speak. He just sat there. As the last strains of the song faded to silence, Tim reached up and moved the needle back. The song began again.

Softly, very softly, Tim began to sing along.

"If I had a day that I could give you  
>I'd give to you a day just like today."<p>

Sam smiled and joined in.

"If I had a song that I could sing for you  
>I'd sing a song to make you feel this way."<p>

Tim laughed and finally leaned against his father. The two of them sang softly beneath the louder voice of John Denver.

"Sunshine...almost always..."

The song ended and the next, "Goodbye Again", began. Tim didn't keep singing, although he could have.

"Sunshine on the water," Tim whispered.

"You saw a lot of that, I guess," Sam said, willing Tim to say something more.

"Yes. It wasn't lovely. Not at first...and then, it was...and then, when it was all I wanted, all I needed...it wasn't lovely, it was just a need I had...a source of pain. ...and then...then, she left me there, alone. I knew she would from the beginning. I just never thought that...that I'd love her. Not so much...and I hate her, too. ...and I don't know what to do anymore." Tim took a deep breath. "I don't know what to do...Dad."

"I don't know what to tell you, Tim, but maybe this is a start...trying to figure it out."

"I don't know how."

Sam smiled. "I don't, either...but I have a suggestion."

"What?"

"What if you went back to DC occasionally? Stay for a few days...get back into the life you had. We're not going to push you away from Ohio, but it's not your life. It's a stopover on the way. You always loved being in DC, being at NCIS. It's what you wanted for yourself. Why don't you try it out again? Your friend, Ducky, has offered his home, as has Agent Gibbs. They're willing to take you in if you ever want to visit. Your apartment isn't...your apartment anymore. All your stuff is here, but you could go back and reconnect."

"It doesn't feel like my world anymore, Dad."

"But it _is_ your world. Even if what you told us really happened, this is still your world. You can't change that...because even if..." And here, no matter what he'd said to Naomi, Sam stumbled a little. It was just too hard to believe. "...if there _is _a...a selkie somewhere in our ancestry, _you_ are still human. You are still my son. That won't ever change."

"But why does it still hurt?"

"I don't know. Tim, I just don't know the answer to that question."

The record ended and Tim turned it over to the A side.

"_I've been lately thinking  
><em>_About my life's time  
><em>_All the things I've done  
><em>_And how it's been  
><em>_And I can't help believing  
><em>_In my own mind  
><em>_I know I'm gonna hate to see it end."_

"What do you think, Tim? Worth a try?"

"Why does it hurt so much to love her?" Tim asked.

"Maybe it wasn't really love, Tim. Maybe it was something else."

"What else could it be?"

"That need you said you feel. Maybe it's that...and loneliness."

"No. It was more. It started out as...as that, but it didn't stay that way."

"I don't know, Tim. What you've said...that doesn't sound like love to me. It sounds like desperation."

Tim pulled away from him and Sam was afraid he'd gone too far, pushed too hard.

"No. It was love. We both pretended it wasn't...but it was."

Tim stood up and stared at the record as it continued to play. Sam saw him clench his left hand tightly, the knuckles turning white, bringing the dark blue of the ring into stark contrast with his skin. Quickly, Sam pulled himself back into his wheelchair.

"Tim."

"It was love. It _was_."

"Then, I can't give you an answer. I've never been hurt by love in that way. Tim, what about my suggestion?"

"I don't know," Tim whispered. He reached out and turned off the record player and then walked out of the garage.

Sam watched him go and sighed.

"'There is only one way to happiness and that is to cease worrying about things which are beyond the power of our will.' Epictetus."

He couldn't control what Tim chose. He couldn't decide what Tim should do. He could only try to help Tim find his way.

He just never knew that it would be so hard to do that.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

Tim didn't give Sam an answer for days after it was first suggested. Instead, he sequestered himself in the garage, looking at the things that belonged to him. Sometimes, people from NCIS would sit with him, sometimes his parents...but most of the time he was in there alone. It didn't seem to be doing anything for him, but then there was a sudden change.

Four months after his rescue from Sule Skerry, Tim tentatively suggested that he go to DC...not permanently yet, but just for a few days...to see how he would do. Naomi was still unsure, but Sam supported Tim's agreement wholeheartedly. It was clear that he wasn't going to heal completely while in Ohio. Maybe going back to DC would help.

Arrangements were made swiftly, before Tim could change his mind. The first of many visits lasted only three days and then Tim returned to Ohio. Two weeks later, he returned. He stayed with Ducky and actually came to NCIS. He didn't actually work, but he seemed to take some comfort in being in a familiar place, a place he had been a lot before Sule Skerry.

Then, six months after his return to the human world, Tim suggested that he stay in DC for an extended period, perhaps a month or two. He suggested that he get a hotel or a short-term apartment, but Ducky and Gibbs wouldn't hear of it. Not only was it silly when both of them had ample space, Tim wasn't ready to be alone just yet. Given the option, Tim chose to stay with Ducky, but everyone was around quite a bit. Barely a day went by that someone didn't just "stop by" to see how things were going. Impromptu dinner parties helped Tim regain some of his ability to interact socially with people. Sam and Naomi came on the weekends when they could.

All in all, Tim seemed to be gaining some ground. He was still distant and withdrawn, but he was slowly becoming more human.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky noticed the silence in the house. It was the morning that Tim was going to try getting back to work. Normally, Tim made _some_ noise as he got ready for the day even if it was just the opening and closing of doors.

"Timothy?"

He hurried down the stairs and saw the back door open. Tim was standing out in the yard, staring off to the east toward the rising sun.

"Timothy?"

Tim turned toward him, a strange expression on his face.

"Ducky?"

"Yes?"

"I feel..." Tim shook his head and then swayed for a moment.

Ducky grabbed Tim by the arm.

"Timothy!"

"It feels strange."

"Another...another attack?"

"No. It's not that...just...strange." Tim straightened. "I'm...I'm okay, Ducky."

"Are you certain? We can put off your return by a day if necessary."

"No...I want..." Tim clenched his left hand, a sure sign of some residual pain. "I _need_ to go back...to work...even if it's just me sitting at my desk."

"Very well...but if you have any more trouble today, let me know. There's no sense in pushing yourself too far too fast. We want you back with us, but it will still take time. We all know that."

"I'm going."

"All right. Breakfast?"

"Just coffee."

Ducky wanted to insist that Tim eat, but he didn't. Tim had recovered quite a bit in the last few months, but there was one very obvious indication that he had changed. It was a minor thing, but it was still a bit disturbing. Tim had continued to keep his hair longer. It wasn't a flowing mane or anything, but it was just long enough to seem...wrong.

"It will be ready soon."

"Thanks."

"Are you sure you're feeling well enough?"

"Yeah. It was just a dizzy spell."

They were ready fairly quickly. Ducky was still worried, but he contented himself with a making a mental note to mention Tim's "dizzy spell" to Gibbs.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"McGee!" Tony exclaimed. "You're back!"

Tim smiled a little while sitting at his desk. He wasn't sure about all this, but he had loved working at NCIS and it might be the only way to remember that.

"For now...Tony."

Tony's smile changed but didn't vanish. "You doing all right?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"No...but I'm all right."

Ziva got off the elevator and smiled widely.

"McGee! It is good to see you back."

"Thanks...Thank you, Ziva," Tim said.

He was sure that he could have been a bit happier about this whole thing if it weren't for this strange feeling that had been with him since he'd awakened early in the morning. It was a feeling he couldn't describe, almost like he was being pulled away from himself. It wasn't pain which is why he didn't think he was the same as he'd been fighting before. The seal was mostly quiescent...but it was an uneasy truce Tim had with his _varden_. He had the feeling that it was just biding its time. Until when, Tim didn't know, but he hadn't accepted the seal within himself and it was refusing to be suppressed again.

Everyone seemed to want to drop by his desk during the day, just to say hello. Few stayed more than a second or two...which was good. Tim didn't think he could take too much more than that. Gibbs gave him some simple tasks to do. Tim tried to focus on them, but that feeling kept him from giving his full attention to anything.

"Tim?"

Tim blinked a few times and looked over at Tony.

"Yeah?"

"Lunch."

"Oh. Okay." Tim nodded and stood up. He allowed Tony and Ziva to lead him out of the building and to Willard Park. Abby and Jimmy joined them and they sat together, eating their lunch, mostly in silence.

But only at first. There was a ritual that had begun with Tim's first visit to DC. It had yet to begin today, but it wouldn't take much longer to happen.

"Okay, McGee. It's time," Tony said.

Tim smiled.

"Okay. Who's turn is it?"

Abby raised her hand high in the air and waved it back and forth.

"Me! Pick me!"

"Yes, Abby?" Ziva asked.

"Why did you have Billy Joel's "Good Night, My Angel" on your playlist for Gibbs?"

Tim actually felt a little embarrassed by the question. Embarrassment had become a fairly foreign emotion to him. What good did embarrassment do when one was fighting oneself?

"Well?" Jimmy prodded, as eager as the rest of them to hear Tim's answer.

"Uh...because I saw Gibbs hold a baby and calm it down. When the case was over...I just...it seemed like the right song to add."

Abby grinned as if she'd won a prize.

"Ziva, it's your turn."

"Very well. Are you reading any of your books?"

"Not really. I get a page or two...but then...I just can't focus on it. My mind wanders."

"What if I were to read with you?"

Tim smiled. "That's not part of the game."

"Even so. Do you think it would help?"

Tim looked at Ziva and then at the others, expecting to see some sort of ridicule...but there was none. Their concern for him took precedence over other things. Tim wished he could express his appreciation for that...but he couldn't. He just couldn't bring himself to say the words.

"Maybe. It might. I don't know."

"Are you willing to try?"

"Sure...maybe this weekend."

Ziva smiled and Tim felt a little bit of a lift.

"Good. It is your turn, Jimmy."

"Okay...hmmm...why jazz?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Tim asked, perplexed. "I like jazz."

"Yes...but why? How did you get into jazz? And why records? You're a computer geek."

"The sound is better on records when it's music made before CDs. Records are...the medium the music was made for. It's not the same listening to a CD." Tim smiled again. "And...the jazz records were the cheapest ones at the store."

Jimmy laughed.

"Do you like remembering these things, Probie?" Tony asked after a few seconds.

"I don't know," Tim admitted.

Suddenly, Tim felt dizzy, as though he'd been pulled up into the air and was flying at high speed toward...something. Whatever it was, it was draining as well as disorienting.

"Tim! Tim, snap out of it!"

Stinging slaps pulled him out of the air. Tim fell headlong...back to the bench in Willard Park. He opened his eyes, wondering when he had closed them. Everyone was crowded around him. Tony had slapped him, his eyes alive with concern.

"What...happened?" Tim asked faintly.

"You...went really weird," Abby said, her voice shaking. "Really..._really_ weird. It wasn't like you were doing before. What was happening for you?"

"I was...dizzy...and flying...and then I fell back here," Tim said. "I don't...know. It...was..."

"Okay. Back inside," Tony said, firmly in his lead agent role. "Ducky's going to look you over and he'll decide if you're going to stay here any longer today."

"I'm...I'm okay now...Tony," Tim said...but he wasn't. That strange feeling was stronger than ever, but he just didn't know what it was.

"Yeah, right. Try saying that when you're not whiter than...than...than the face of an evil clown!"

"Evil clown?" Ziva asked.

"Sorry...I panicked," Tony said with a lopsided smile...which quickly faded. "Something's very wrong, McGee. Let's go."

Tim nodded. "Okay." He started to stand and then felt dizzy again. He reeled against Jimmy who quickly supported him. With Abby hovering worriedly around him and Tony and Ziva watching to be sure he didn't fall, Tim made it back to the bullpen, to his desk. He sat there, trying not to topple over while the others fetched Ducky.

"Timothy, you're white as a sheet. Whatever happened?"

"I don't know," Tim said. "It's...like this morning. Weird feeling. I was...flying."

"Flying? Where to?"

Tim opened his mouth to say he didn't know...but that's not what came out.

"To the sea," he mumbled and his head lolled around his neck. "Can't...focus."

"I can see that."

Tim felt Ducky take his temperature, his blood pressure, feel his pulse, but he still was feeling very strange...and there was an unsettled feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

"You are not fit to be here any longer, Timothy. I should have forced you to stay home this morning."

"I'm...okay...really."

"No, you're not. You're practically passing out. You don't have a fever, but your pulse is racing. No, Timothy. You're going home. It's either that or the Emergency Room...and perhaps it should be that anyway."

"Home...then."

"Very well. Jethro?"

"Go," Gibbs said. "Palmer can deal with whatever is down there...but he'll _call_ if he can't. Right?"

Jimmy gulped and nodded.

"Come on, lad," Ducky said and pulled Tim to his feet.

Tim stumbled and felt floaty for a moment before the physical contact dragged him back to reality.

"Okay."

When they got back, Ducky made Tim get right into bed. Tim did so, but the room felt as though it were spinning and he didn't like the sensation. Ducky seemed to sense that and sat beside Tim, a hand on Tim's shoulder...grounding him. Finally, Tim fell asleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Jethro, what happened this afternoon was not normal...not even for Timothy. We should consider getting him thoroughly checked out. The dizziness, his pulse. The feeling he had that he was flying. These are not aspects of whatever that pain has been that has hurt him."

Gibbs sat in Ducky's living room, trying to resist the temptation to go into the spare room and _force_ Tim to explain whatever it was that was bothering him.

"You think he's lying and hiding what it really is?"

"Not this time, I don't think. Timothy seemed genuinely uncertain about the cause...and he himself felt as though it was not the same thing as before."

"So...what is it, then?"

"I haven't the slightest idea, Jethro. I wish I did. It's as though we have all been dragged into the realms of the supernatural."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_He saw her. She was in pain! And the pain was not the normal pain. It was early. It was too much. The others were worried. They were afraid._

_And the seal inside him, the selkie aspect of his nature which had lain mostly silent inside him for the last couple of months suddenly used all the power that it had saved up and it burst out of that area in which it had been confined. No longer was the human dictating what was done. Now, the selkie was._

_The pain surged up again. Not his pain, but her pain. Pain which would not ebb. Could not ebb. It needed an egress. She needed help...help that he could give. _

_Help that he _would_ give. No matter what the cost. The line must be saved, the species renewed. Nothing else mattered._

_Tim fought back...but not with much force. He was frightened of being swallowed up in the sea that raged inside him now, but he could see her. He could see that she may die. He couldn't let that happen to the woman he loved._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

A sudden shriek startled both Ducky and Gibbs. They stood up, ready to run to Tim's aid when the door to the spare room opened. Tim stumbled out, running into the wall in his haste.

"Timothy!" Ducky said, reaching out to help him.

Then, Tim looked at them and they both stepped back in surprise. His eyes were dark. There was no sign of green in them. Not at all.

He was breathing heavily.

"McGee," Gibbs said. "What's wrong?"

"I have to help her," Tim said, his voice strange...distant...as though it were coming from miles away.

"Help whom?" Ducky asked.

Tim shook his head and ran for the front door. Gibbs grabbed him and pulled him back.

"No, Tim."

He wasn't ready for the fist that came flying at his face.

"I have to help her!" Tim shouted and ran out the door into a gale that seemed to have sprung up out of nowhere.

Ducky ran to the door, but it was too late. Tim was getting into Gibbs' car. (Where had he gotten the keys from?) He was driving away as rain began to fall from the sky in torrents.

"Timothy!" he called, knowing it was useless. "Timothy!"

Too late.

Tim was gone.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

He drove. He knew he couldn't get to her in time. ...but he didn't need to do that. He could accomplish his task without going so far. ...but he did need contact with the sea. He could feel it off in the distance. Not too far away. The roads were mostly bare since it was late at night. He didn't know _exactly_ where he was going, but he could feel the pull. It just needed to be isolated. The people who lived here wouldn't understand.

About halfway through his drive, he felt her pain again. It was getting worse. He sped up. He had to get to the sea before it was too late to save her.

Clouds gathered above his head as he drove.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky paced back and forth as he spoke on the phone. Gibbs was antsy, wanting simply to get going. The problem was that they didn't know which way to go. Was Tim going to head for an airport and try to fly back to Orkney as he had done before? Or would he try to get to the ocean? If so, which direction would he go? Which one of hundreds of places would he choose?

That was the reason for their next course of action.

"Yes, the car is yellow. He has _not _committed a crime. He is in an altered state and we need to find him." Ducky sighed. "No, I told you already. Please do not attempt to stop him unless he is doing something which warrants it. We just need to know where he is so that _we_ may help him." Again, Ducky listened to the dispatcher. "Thank you. Yes, you may reach us at this number." He hung up and looked at Gibbs who was now sporting a black eye.

"We should be looking for him ourselves," Gibbs said.

"If we had the ability, Jethro. However, there is no way of tracking that car of yours without help. We don't know where he'll go. In his current state, he could be headed _anywhere_."

"His current state," Gibbs echoed.

"I don't know what that state is, I'm afraid. Did you see his eyes?"

"What could do that?"

"I don't know. People's eyes have been known to fade as they age due to decreased amounts of melanin in their irises, but this...it isn't anything I can explain. Eye color is determined by the interaction of a number of genes. For Timothy's eyes to change as they have..."

"You're trying to tell me that McGee's DNA has changed?"

"I'm telling you that I don't know. The only explanations I do know don't fit."

The phone rang and Ducky answered it before the second ring.

"Hello?" He sighed with relief. "Thank you. Thank you very much." He hung up and looked at Gibbs. "He's heading eastward on US-50."

"To the sea."

"Yes."

Gibbs took a deep breath and nodded. "Let's go."

They drove on US-50, hoping to catch up with Tim before he veered off the highway and was lost again. Finally, when they reached the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, Gibbs saw the taillights of his car.

"There he is."

"Thank goodness. Where is he going?"

"To the sea," Gibbs said grimly.

They continued on US-50, ever eastward, not speaking, both men intent only on the car ahead of them. Tim was driving over the speed limit, but he wasn't driving erratically. He was at least moderately in control.

"It looks like rain," Ducky said softly. "It was supposed to be a clear night. No storms at all."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The sea was closer than ever and he felt so much untapped power surging inside him that he thought he might explode. A strong gust of wind made the car shake. His hands tightened around the steering wheel as he drove. Suddenly, he made a left-hand turn and there it was. It was too dark to see it, but it was there. The sea was there.

Her pain peaked and he nearly swerved off the road at the intensity of it. There wasn't much time. He reached the sea and turned right, driving as far as the road would let him go. Then, he stopped the car, only barely remembering to turn it off, and began to run. As he ran along the beach, he angled closer and closer to the water until his feet were covered by the rising tide. He stopped briefly and pulled off his shoes and socks. He took off his shirt and then continued to run.

Distantly, behind him, he heard voices. He stopped and turned around.

He knew who they were. They were worried about him and they wanted to stop him. They couldn't be allowed to do that. He had to accomplish his task.

He straightened and looked at the sky. The clouds were already thickening. He thrust his left hand into the air, stretching his fingers into claws and called the power to him.

Lightning. A crash of thunder. Then, the rain. There was no gradual increase. It went from a calm night to utter chaos in seconds.

"Timothy!"

_Names mean nothing._

He faced the sea, feeling it inside him as he called on its power. His hand, instead of reaching toward the heavens, now reached outward, eastward. That connection that had been forged months ago, a connection he had not known or understood until this moment...he willed it to intensify. He touched her mind. For the first time, he intentionally made contact with her and her agony nearly crippled him. Her desire was only that her children live. No matter what sacrifice that called for.

...but he couldn't let her die.

"Timothy!"

The voice was closer now. He had to hurry.

The connection was complete. As he staggered beneath the intensity of her pain, he took it into himself and gave her his strength. He dropped to his knees, but still he persevered.

"You have to live!" he screamed into the wind...and then he was falling again, as he had that afternoon...only he was falling into an abyss with no end. It was only darkness.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs and Ducky fought against the howling wind and pelting rain that had come out of nowhere...seemingly at Tim's command. Neither of them had missed his gesture. Then, he seemed to be a part of the sea. It wasn't even that he stepped further into it. He was half naked, his long hair blowing around his head, his hand reaching out toward something neither of them could see. However, his entire being moved in rhythm with the surging sea as if he was finally able to join with the sea after a long separation.

It was such a strange scene that they stopped and stared. They were frozen in place, trying to see through the wind and rain, trying to know what to do to help someone who, although only a dozen or so feet from them, was a world away.

Then, Tim staggered, his hand still reaching seaward and he started breathing irregularly. He fell to his knees, clearly in agony, and that broke the spell that had come over Gibbs and Ducky. They began to run again, pausing only briefly when Tim suddenly screamed out.

"You have to live!"

Then, he fell forward into the water and didn't move.

...and the storm began to weaken.

Gibbs reached Tim first and pulled him out of the water. He was still breathing. The inhalations and exhalations were quick and shallow. He seemed...too light. When Ducky reached him, he immediately took hold of Tim's wrist and became concerned.

"He needs a hospital, Jethro," he said in a low voice.

The rain stopped.

Tim's eyes opened...and both Gibbs and Ducky were treated to yet another strange sight. His eyes were gray, dark gray...but as he stared at them, they began to lighten and turn green again. ...and then they darkened once more.

"Save her..." Tim whispered.

"Who, Timothy?" Ducky asked.

"Names...don't...matter," he said and then his eyes closed again. "C-C-Cold..."

Ducky pulled off his jacket. It was wet on the outside, but lined inside and waterproof. He wrapped it around Tim's bare torso and gestured for Gibbs to run back to the car and call for help. As Gibbs rose to get his phone, Ducky pulled Tim into his arms and held the shaking man close.

"You're safe, Timothy."

"Eira..." Tim said. "Eira..."

"What does that mean?"

"...Eira..."

"Is that who needs saving?"

Tim wasn't hearing him. That much was clear. He was lost in whatever had called him to the ocean's edge. His vital signs were very concerning.

The tide came up higher on the beach and lapped at Tim's bare feet. He trembled.

"The sea..."

"Yes. It is still there. Timothy, what has happened?"

Then, to his surprise, Tim opened his eyes...his ever-changing eyes and looked searchingly at Ducky. ...and he began to sing.

"_I am a man upon the land;  
><em>_I am a selchie on the sea,  
><em>_and when I'm far frae ev'ry strand,  
><em>_my dwelling is in Sule Skerry."_

"Timothy..."

"Eira..." Tim said once more and then, probably for the first time since he had been rescued from Sule Skerry, Tim let out a long exhalation and sagged, totally limp in Ducky's grasp.

"Jethro! Hurry!" Ducky called and held Tim closer as if he could somehow save Tim by protecting him from the elements.

He looked back over his shoulder and saw Gibbs running back to them. Then, a faint glint caught his eye.

Ducky looked up. The clouds were gone.

He saw the stars.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_He sat on Sule Skerry. The lamp of the lighthouse flashed around and around. It was dark._

_He wasn't alone._

_The seal was there._

_He looked at it._

_It looked back at him._

_Neither made any sound._

_Neither moved._

_An impasse._

_Sule Skerry was empty other than the lighthouse and the two creatures. No birds. No selkies. No people. No other seals. Just a man and a seal, staring at each other._

_Green eyes._

_Dark eyes._

_Human._

_Animal._

_Yin._

_Yang._

_Then, the man stood up and looked around for some sort of escape. He took a step first in one direction and then another. It was clear that he saw no avenue that would lead him away from where he was._

_The seal did not move._

_Finally, he sat down again and looked at the seal._

_Waves crashed over the rocky shore._

_Impasse._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What's wrong with him, Ducky?" Abby asked in a small voice.

"I wish I could tell you, my dear. Unfortunately, no one knows. No one except Timothy himself, I'd wager."

They stood quietly together, watching Tim's chest rise and fall.

It had been three days since what had happened by the sea on the Wallops Island peninsula. Tim had not once awakened although the doctors said there was no reason for him to be like this. His pulse had not calmed much, nor had his respiration.

Tim was locked away somewhere, far from the rest of them. They couldn't touch where he was. If Tim was fighting, the battle was one he had to wage alone.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The seal shed her skin and came ashore. She stared westward.

Selkies did not cry as a general rule. Only one thing was traumatic enough to warrant tears: the loss of one's skin. Only that. All else could be borne.

She stood alone on the cliffs of Yesnaby, watching the setting sun. Then, she sat down on the edge. Not speaking.

Her head dropped.

She began to cry.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

Zive sighed and set the book aside that she'd been reading aloud. A week of this and no change. Worried that Tim's continuing tachycardia would cause actual damage to his heart, the doctors had decided to try treating his symptoms, even if they couldn't explain the reasons for any of them. He was on numerous monitors which kept track of his respiration, his heart rate and his brainwaves...but other than an IV drip, he wasn't being given anything. His apparent coma had no discernible cause.

Only because she was alone with him for the moment did Ziva feel comfortable taking Tim's hand. His left hand. She ran her fingers over the ring which was still there. They wondered about it, but Tim had never seen fit to tell them why he was wearing it. Abby had outright asked Tim if he was married and he had said no.

Now, as she held his hand, Ziva wondered if Tim was beyond their reach now...if he had _always_ been beyond their reach and they simply had not realized it.

"No, McGee," she said quietly. "I will not accept that you are gone. You must wake up. You must come back. We lost you once. We cannot lose you again...not like this."

No response. The only thing that kept them hoping was the EEG. If Tim's body was nonresponsive, his mind was alive, frenetic with activity. Something was going on in his head.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_He sat there as the sun went down, bathing them both in gloom._

_The seal stared at him without any movement, as it had since the beginning._

_Off in the distance, he saw a boat. He jumped to his feet and ran to the edge of Sule Skerry, shouting and waving his arms, trying to get its attention. No such luck. It continued on its course without deviation. Soon, it vanished from sight._

_He sighed and trudged back to the seal. He thought it a bit strange that he'd been here for so long and felt no need for food or water...or sleep. He was just there. Days passed quickly, nights slowly, but there was no compunction for any kind of action. All that existed was himself, the seal and the lighthouse._

_He had walked to the lighthouse once or twice, but there was nothing to be seen. It was just a building with a spinning light. Not much._

_He sat down on the ground, facing the seal, looking into its dark eyes._

"_Why am I here?" he asked, speaking aloud for the first time._

_The seal didn't speak, but Tim heard what it said all the same. It was as clear as if the seal _had_ up and started talking._

Why am I here?_ it asked in return._

"_You were here before I was."_

We are here together.

"_Who are you?"_

Who are _you_?

"_I don't understand."_

I know.

_He took a deep breath, as if he had just finished a long and difficult task. His heart seemed to be thumping at a disconcerting rate._

"_I don't understand," he said again._

Yes, you do.

_The seal stared at him._

_The sun came up._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Who is Eira?" Ducky asked Sam and Naomi when the opportunity arose.

They exchanged silent glances.

"Please," Ducky said. "He said that he had to save her. ...and I saw things that night that I have never seen before. I would never have believed them..."

"Yes," Naomi said softly. "Exactly."

Gibbs sat down across from Naomi.

"You said you couldn't tell us. We've _seen_ quite a bit. Can't you just fill in the blanks?"

"Who is Eira?" Ducky asked again.

"Eira is...so far as we know, from what Tim told us...she's the...woman he fell in love with...on Sule Skerry."

"On Sule Skerry?" Gibbs repeated. "He said he was alone there."

"He said there were no people," Sam corrected. "She wasn't a person. She was a..."

Then, it clicked.

"A selkie," Ducky said.

Sam's eyes widened. "How did you–?"

"He sang a verse from 'The Great Selchie o'Sule Skerry' to me that night...as well, he sang it when we were with him on Orkney. He was giving a message none of us understood."

"He doesn't think that _he_ is a selkie," Naomi corrected quickly.

"Then, what _does_ he think?" Gibbs asked.

"That there is a selkie in his lineage and that he has selkie blood inside him, a side of him that was awakened on Sule Skerry...by Eira. He told us that he both hates her and loves her."

Ducky leaned back in his seat. He could see why Tim had insisted on this being kept secret. No one would believe a tale like this. It was clear to him that Sam and Naomi weren't sure they believed it. ...but after what he had seen on the beach, after he had watched Tim's eyes change color...it was harder to dismiss the tale completely.

"If this is, somehow, true..." he began.

"Then, what was he doing on the beach to save her?" Gibbs finished.

"And what is going on now?"

"I wish I could tell you," Sam said. "I wish I could explain all this, but I can't. I think that Tim has kept back some details from us as well as from you."

"Then, we shall have to wait and hope for the best. It does not appear that there is any other option."

"Augustine did say that 'patience is the companion of wisdom'," Sam said with a weary smile. "Perhaps we'll gain some. I can tell you that Naomi and I have been trying to find that very thing...unsuccessfully."

Ducky smiled back. "More patience is warranted, I suppose. It is up to Timothy and we will simply have to wait."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

He came to her as she sat on the rocky shore. They would be moving with the rest of the seals in the morning. She silently acknowledged his presence but did not speak. She only stared off to the west.

"You should not leave them alone," he said.

"They are not alone. All are watching them. They are too important to lose," she answered.

"You are thinking of the human."

"Yes." There was no point in denying it.

"Why?"

"I must try to reach him, to return what he gave."

"You will die."

"No. That is not my intention. I must balance the scale."

"Why?"

"Because he gave more even though all I had done was take from him."

"It was necessary."

"I know and I would not change it, but his actions require recompense."

"That is a human point of view." It was not a derogatory statement. Simply one of fact.

"Perhaps...perhaps that is what it is, but still, I must do this."

"The others are worried that you will abandon us as did the human's ancestor."

She did not look at him but drew herself up straight and stared out at the sea. "I will not. I am a selkie. I was willing to give my life and would have done so had he not intervened. None have the right to question my loyalty."

Silence.

"Do _you_? Do _you_ think that I would destroy all I have fought to gain?"

"No. You would not. ...and yet...here you are."

"It is against no law, human _or_ selkie, to sit on the beach."

A long silence.

"Nor is it against the law to love," he said.

She stiffened.

"Is it."

"It is not love."

"Oh?"

"Love does not hurt as I have hurt him...as I would _still_ have hurt him even knowing what my choice would do. Thus, it is not love."

"When will you attempt your task?"

"When we have returned to Sule Skerry. I have touched his mind and it is there."

"And?"

She understood what he was asking. "And I cannot do it alone. I have not yet recovered."

"Then, you will not. I will tell the others."

She nodded.

"They will awaken soon and want you."

"Yes. I will be there."

The only indication of his departure was the rippling water as he slipped beneath the surface, pulling on his skin as he did so.

She was alone again. She stood and looked out at the sea, but not really seeing it. Then, she took up her skin and returned to her children.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"How's he doing?" Gibbs asked softly.

Tony looked at him, shrugged and looked back at Tim.

"How does he _look_ like he's doing? He's still out. Doctors don't have a clue, and he could be wearing out his heart. Instead of having him disappear, he could just die before our very eyes. I'm not sure that's any better than it would have been to have him just vanish."

Gibbs sat down beside Tony and put a hand on his shoulder. Tony sighed.

"I hate having to sit here and watch him die."

"He won't die."

"He could, Boss...and you know it."

"Yeah, he could, but he won't. McGee's stronger than that."

"Well, I see a lot of monitors and tubes and machines that say otherwise," Tony said grimly.

_Thwack!_

"McGee survived three months on an island eating nothing but seaweed and raw fish. He's fought back against all the crap that unloaded on him. He can beat this, too."

"Whatever _this_ is," Tony muttered. "We don't even _know_ what it is."

Suddenly, Tim stiffened and he screamed...and not wordless screams either.

"No! No! It can't be! NO!"

Tony jumped to his feet and grabbed at Tim's flailing limbs while Gibbs called for a doctor.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_The sun went down._

"_Why is it always night here?"_

It isn't.

_He sighed. "The days are so short."_

Yes.

_He looked at the seal...really looked at it. It was large for a gray seal._

"_Who are you?" he asked._

I am.

"_Who _are_ you?" he demanded, rising to his feet once more. _

_The seal stretched itself upward...and then pulled off its skin, revealing the selkie underneath._

I am you.

"_No! No!" he said frantically. "It can't be! NO!"_

It is true. You must stop denying it.

"_NO!" he screamed again and ran away from the selkie, ran to the lighthouse, ran inside it and closed the door. He didn't stop there. He ran and ran up the stairs, trying to get away from what the selkie had said._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What's...going...on?" Tony asked as Tim flailed and thrashed, trying to get away from something no one else could see.

"I don't know," Gibbs said. "Something in his head. I wish I knew what it was."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_He got to the top and searched for a place to hide. He turned and backed away in surprise. The selkie was there._

You cannot run from me. I am you.

"_No! I'm a human being!"_

That does not mean you are not me as well.

_He backed away, closer and closer to the edge of the walkway._

"_Stay away from me!"_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Come on, McGee!" Tony said. "Stop fighting!"

Tim's eyes opened and for just a moment, they were a clear green...but then, as Tony watched, they darkened, almost to black.

"No!" he screamed again.

Then, suddenly, he let out a long wordless shriek. He jerked violently under Tony's restraining arms and then went limp. Almost lifeless.

"What was that?" Tony asked.

"I don't know."

"Doc!" Tony said. "What's going on?"

The doctor took note of Tim's vital signs and shook his head. "He's...asleep again. I know it's not what you want to hear, but I can't tell you what's going on. This is the strangest case I've ever seen. I don't know what to do for your friend except what we've _been_ doing."

"It's not helping!" Tony said, angrily.

"Tony!" Gibbs said...and for once, he played the diplomat. "Sit down." He looked at the doctor. "We're all on edge. I'm sorry."

The doctor checked Tim's stats once more and then withdrew.

"Tony..."

"They're not helping. They don't know what to do. _I_ don't know what to do, either, Boss! This really _really_ sucks."

"Go home, Tony. Get some sleep. You're not going to do him any good if you just sit here and fume."

Tony looked at him for a moment and then raised an eyebrow. "You feeling all right, Boss? I'd swear you just expressed concern."

Gibbs rolled his eyes and pointed to the door. "Go home."

"All right. All right, Boss."

Tony stood up and shuffled out of the room. Gibbs took his chair and sat next to Tim. His shallow respiration continued and the monitor showed his escalated heart rate.

"What's going on in there, McGee?" he asked.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_He lay on his back and stared up at the top of the lighthouse, so far above him. He couldn't seem to calm his heart down. He was gasping for air._

You cannot run from yourself.

"_You're...not...me..."_

Yes, I am.

_He lay there, unable to move, barely able to breathe...trapped._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim didn't move at all for the rest of the night. Gibbs didn't know how he knew, but this was a different kind of stillness than had been before.

"Oh, McGee..."

He sighed.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

They gathered around her, each one touching her hands. Whatever doubts they might have about her decision, they had decided to help her. Even the one who had hated the human was there, lending his power. They could ill afford to lose her and so, since she had deemed this necessary, they would aid her in her attempt.

There was only silence. No sign that anything was happening until she suddenly took a deep breath and arched her body upward, her eyes closed, her body tense.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Why is this worse than it was before?" Abby asked, plaintively.

"Because it is," Jimmy said. "Everyone knows it. We just don't know why."

Suddenly, Abby straightened and looked around.

"What?" Jimmy asked.

"I thought I heard something...someone singing."

"I didn't hear anything. Maybe you should get your ears checked while you're here."

Abby hit him.

"Ow!"

"Stop making jokes, then!"

Jimmy was about to retort when he noticed Tim move.

"McGee?" he said.

Abby instantly whirled back.

"Tim?"

There was a small twitch...and then, nothing.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_He lay on the ground, still unable to move. The sun had risen and set. The selkie had taken up its skin again and was, once more, sitting motionless beside him. It did not attempt to speak or to persuade. It simply sat, making clear that it had no intention of leaving his side._

_He felt as though he was now dying. The fall from the lighthouse had been too much for him. He would die._

_...a hand on his forehead._

_He looked up._

"_You."_

"_Yes."_

"_How did you get here?"_

_She smiled. "You are here. So I am, too."_

"_Why?"_

_She crouched down on the ground beside him._

"_To help repair the damage I have done."_

"_It's too late."_

"_No, it is not." _

_Carefully, she slipped her arm beneath him and lifted him to a sitting position._

"_This is not reality. You cannot die here unless you think you must."_

"_Why am I here?" he asked, still panting and very conscious of his pounding heart._

"_You must calm yourself. It is not good to act as you are."_

"_I can't. I feel like I'm out of breath, like I've been running a race."_

"_You can. It is your body. Your body is fine. It is your mind that is creating the situation."_

_She stroked the side of his face, very gently, saying nothing, just silently urging him to relax, to calm down._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I don't understand it. His pulse is slowing. His breathing is better."

"What did you do?" Ducky asked.

"Nothing. It just happened. I can't claim credit for something I don't understand."

Naomi kissed Tim's forehead and ruffled his hair.

"I don't care what the reason is. If he's getting better, I'll take it. No matter what."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Good. Be calm. Do not fight."_

_His eyes kept drifting closed. He would occasionally take deeper shuddering breaths but it was much easier to breathe now than it had been before._

"_Now, you must face what you have refused to face."_

_He felt her turn him._

"_Open your eyes."_

_He did so and saw the seal there. Instantly, he started to panic again._

"_No! It is nothing to fear!"_

"_It's not me!" he said. "It can't be me!"_

_She moved around him so that she could look him in the eye._

"_It is _not_ you. It is a _part_ of you...and you will never live until you can accept that this is true!"_

"_No!"_

"_Yes. No man can deny his ancestry. No man can fight who he is. You must learn to accept it and learn how to live the life this change presents!"_

_He got to his feet and towered over her._

"_I never _wanted_ this change!" he said in a pained voice. "I never wanted any of this. _You_ wanted it. _You_ needed it!"_

_She also got to her feet._

"_Yes, I did," she said calmly. "...but so did you. You have hidden from yourself for most of your life and you have been stunted by that."_

"_Stunted? I was _fine_! I had a job. I had friends. I was happy!"_

"_But you never could find the place where you fit. I am inside your mind now. I can see your past."_

"_You have no right."_

"_It is not a right. It is a necessity. I have caused you great pain, and it is pain that I must help alleviate."_

"_Then, help me get rid of that!" Tim said, pointing at the seal, still sitting patiently in its place._

"_I cannot. It is part of you. To remove it would be to destroy you."_

"_And what if I let the seal take over again? I hit someone I respect because it was in control!"_

"_It is not about giving it control...but about giving it life! ...as you gave to me." She looked down, seeming almost ashamed. "I was dying. Nothing they could do would save me. A link in the mind takes time to develop."_

"_How did–?"_

"_We were together." She lifted her head for a moment. "We were together, you and I."_

_He flushed. _

"_That's all it takes?"_

"_No, but it was what happened. I touched your mind, and you used my mind to calm your pain. You would not have been able to do what you did if the connection had not been there."_

"_And now?"_

_She stepped closer to him._

"_Now, I am giving back to you. I am not taking."_

"_How are you going to do that?"_

"_Like this." She touched his temples and he spasmed and then collapsed to the ground._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Whoa!" Tony stood up. "What did I do?"

The monitors were all going haywire. Quickly, he pressed the call button while Ziva physically ran out into the hall to get someone inside Tim's room.

"What is it?" a nurse asked.

"I don't know! They just...started...doing this!" Tony said.

She took in the scene for all of a second before she hurried to Tim's inert form and began checking his vitals. Then, her face reflected deep concern and she pressed the alert button again.

In moments, there was an entire medical team in Tim's room...and Tony and Ziva were in the hall. Ziva was actually holding onto Tony's arm as they both stared in concern and fear at the closed door.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_She eased him gently to the ground and then gestured for the seal to approach._

"_Show him," she said._

_It came forward eagerly._

"_Do not _force_. Show."_

_It dipped its head once and touched its nose to his head. It was clear that he was resisting. She leaned over and whispered in his ear._

"_Listen. Do not fight. It will not harm you. It wishes to show you."_

_His breathing had turned shallow once again._

"_Listen. It is part of you. Let it in."_

"_No...No..." he mumbled._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What's going on?" Abby asked.

"I don't know," Tony said. "Something just...just happened. They've been in there for a while."

Abby's eyes widened and she bit her lower lip.

"Is he going to be okay?"

No one answered her.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_He began to tremble as the seal maintained contact and gradually began to become transparent._

"_Slowly," she warned._

_His trembling became violent shaking._

"_Let it in," she whispered, her lips close to his ear._

_The seal vanished...and he inhaled quickly, arching his back for a moment before he sank back to the ground, motionless._

_She cupped her hands around his face._

"_Breathe," she said._

_She took a deep breath...and so did he. She exhaled and he did the same. Inhale. Exhale. He mirrored her actions._

"_Good."_

_Inhale. Exhale._

"_Now...listen. Feel. Understand."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Everyone was gathered outside Tim's room and hovered there for almost an hour before the door opened and the doctor came out. They could see Tim lying quietly on his bed, seeming to be calmer than before.

The doctor sighed.

"What happened?" Sam asked.

"I wish I could tell you for sure. Everything about your son's condition baffles me. I've asked my colleagues about it, and it's nothing they know either...but he's stable now. In fact, he's better than he's been since you brought him here. If he opened his eyes, we'd let him check out of the hospital. It's as if he's sleeping."

"But he doesn't wake up!" Abby said.

"I know...but you can go in and see him now."

They all rushed into the room. Tim lay quietly, didn't even stir as Naomi took hold of his hand. He was quiescent.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_How many layers can there be inside oneself? However many there were, he knew he'd just penetrated another one. He was floating in a dark space. He could feel the rocking of the sea...and he wasn't sick._

Of course not. Why would you be?

"_I always have been before."_

I was not in here before.

_He looked around and around...but there was nothing in the dark space with him._

"_Where are you?"_

I am you. Where you are, so am I.

"_No."_

Yes. Can you really not feel it?

"_I need to see you."_

Look in a mirror.

"_I don't see a seal in the mirror."_

_He turned around and saw the seal before him._

"_Show me."_

_It nodded and removed its skin._

"_Why do you look like me?" he asked._

"_Because we are the same person. You are the human side. I am the selkie side. I have two forms because I am a selkie. I have a human form and a seal form, but we are all aspects of the same person."_

"_How can I be a selkie and a human? We're so different."_

"_See what I see." He closed his eyes._

_It was not dark when he closed his eyes. It was bright, sunny. He saw ever-changing images of a girl, first crying over her bandaged and bleeding hands and feet, and then, later, playing in the dirt, drawing waves in it. Older then, she swayed to a rhythm no one else could hear. Then, a man came and watched her dance to the rhythms of the sea. Then, they were by the sea and her heart ached. A wife now, her husband came beside her as she touched the water. They sailed across the ocean and she was seasick the entire time. She cried for much of the journey. Older still, she was surrounded by children, holding them with her gnarled hands, dancing with them. An old woman, now, rocking in a chair, lost to all but the sea in her veins._

_The years passed in a rush with many of her descendants pursuing careers which called them to the sea. He watched as time came closer and closer to his own lifetime._

"_You are me. I am you. We cannot be one without the other."_

"_And yet I was."_

"_No. You were held back, uncertain, unable to find a place where you belonged...until you returned to the sea, even in a limited fashion. Only there did you settle from your incessant wandering from degree to degree, from place to place, job to job. You found what you wanted and you took that."_

_He considered this strange interpretation of his life._

"_And yet you took control."_

"_To save a life _you_ wished to save."_

_He couldn't argue with that._

"_No, you cannot argue with it because it is true."_

"_How do you know what I'm thinking?"_

"_Because I am you."_

"_So now what?"_

"_That depends."_

"_On what?"_

"_Will you still try to contain me? Will you still fight against giving me place within you? I cannot be destroyed, not without destroying yourself, but the battle will be painful for you for as long as it lasts."_

"_Why can't you just leave me alone?"_

"_Because I am you. I have no existence without you...and you have no existence without me."_

"_Why don't I know this?"_

_He smiled. "You do...because I know it. You are refusing to accept it, but you know it."_

_He looked around the dark space and then at himself._

"_What will happen...if I stop fighting? Will I stop being myself? Will I stop being human?"_

"_I do not know for certain. I have not experienced this either. ...but I do know that you cannot keep fighting me and survive. Already, your body is worn down by your struggle."_

"_I'm breathing."_

"_She is breathing for you, but she cannot keep it up forever."_

"_Why is she doing this?"_

"_Look in her eyes and see."_

_He looked around again...and at himself again. It was like looking in a mirror and seeing the reflection. The same person but there was a part of him that expected the reflection to start doing something different...like on _Mary Poppins_._

_He laughed._

"_What will you do? Fight until we die or let me in and take a chance? There is no other option, not now. You must choose." The selkie took up his seal skin again and stared at him._

_He looked at the seal. What would happen if he refused? What would happen if he didn't? What was the right choice to make?_

_x.x.x.x.x.x.x_

_She breathed in. She breathed out. _

_Inhale. Exhale._

_x.x.x.x.x.x.x_

"It's been more than two weeks, Duck," Gibbs said. "How much longer can this go on?"

"I don't know. His heart has calmed considerably which is good. His respiration is closer to normal levels." Ducky sighed. "...but I can't say what will happen next."

"I need to do something...and I need your help."

"What's that?" Ducky asked, perplexed.

Gibbs just stood up and left the room. Ducky looked after him and then back at Timothy. He leaned over the figure on the bed.

"God speed, Timothy."

Then, he followed Gibbs.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

_He opened his eyes._

_She smiled._

"_Why am I still on Sule Skerry?"_

"_There is something more I need to give you."_

"_What?"_

_She put out her hand and touched his chest, right over his heart._

"_Wake up, Timothy McGee."_

"_Eira," he whispered._

"_Do not try to find me. When the time is right, you will know." She looked sad for a moment, but then she smiled. "Wake up."_

"_I love you," he said. "I wish I didn't, but I love you."_

"_I know."_

_She took a deep breath and then seemed to exhale _into_ his body. It was like a surge of electricity rushed through him and he sucked in his breath in shock..._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim opened his eyes and exhaled.

"Timothy?"

Tim looked around. A hospital. He was in a hospital. He wasn't on Sule Skerry.

"Timothy? Can you hear me?"

He breathed in again and then exhaled.

"Timothy!"

He blinked and then jumped at the sight of Ducky's face suddenly looming over him.

"Timothy," he said again.

"Ducky," he whispered. He felt so weak, so wiped out. "What's going on?"

"I would rather have _you_ answer that question, Timothy," Ducky said with a stern expression, although his voice expressed only relief.

"I don't think I could..." He breathed in. "...even come close to explaining." He breathed out.

"After all we've heard and seen, I think it would behoove you to try."

Tim breathed. It felt as though his body was only now getting a chance to rest after a years-long battle.

"Later...not now."

The relief changed to concern. "How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted."

Ducky smiled. "After two and a half weeks in something like a coma but not exactly like a coma...you're tired?"

"That long?" Tim asked.

"Yes."

"It didn't...seem like that much time."

"What did it seem like to you?"

"Like...days really short...and nights...really long."

"Timothy."

Tim finally focused on Ducky.

"I can't...talk about it now, Ducky...I have to...understand more."

"More of what?"

Tim blinked a few more times and then looked out the window.

"More of what I am...now."

"Very well. I will go and get your doctor. He will be as stunned as he has been at every development, but he will at least be able to say how long you'll be staying here."

Ducky stood to leave, but Tim reached out a hand. He turned back.

"Why am I so tired, Ducky?"

"You've been wearing out your body even in your unconscious state. The doctors were worried that your heart would not be able to take the strain."

"Permanent damage?" Tim asked.

"Not the last I knew, and you had calmed down quite a bit in the last few days."

"Oh. Okay."

"If you don't mind my saying so, you seem much more like your old self, Timothy."

Tim smiled a little and he looked at the sheet. "I'm not...but that...may not be a bad thing...I think."

Ducky patted Tim and the shoulder.

"We'll try to be patient with you, lad...but you need to tell us...something."

"I will."

"Very well. I'll get your doctor."

"Thank you."

The door closed and Tim looked around at where he was. He had no conscious memory since the beach. He remembered everything up to that moment...but after that, he only had that time on Sule Skerry.

Eira. She had been there...in that dream world. She had apparently given back something of what he had given to her. He had confessed that he loved her...but she had not...and yet, when he looked in her eyes, it was as if she'd said the words anyway. Was any of it real? Had it really happened by any definition?

Even as he asked the question, he knew what the answer was. Of course it had happened. He knew it. He had felt it. If he could accept that he had loved a selkie and that he himself had a selkie in his ancestry, accepting that he'd had some sort of drawn-out debate with another aspect of himself was pretty easy to do.

He thought in his mind about what he'd decided. Accepting the seal as a part of him was still a bit frightening, but so far, wasn't too bad. The edge of pain was gone, but there was still a faint yearning. Perhaps that would never go away. What was he longing for now? The sea? Yes, but more than the sea. He wasn't a selkie after all...although here, he stumbled a bit in his mind about exactly _what_ he was now. Still, it wasn't the sea exactly. Those he had lost _to_ the sea. Eira...and the children he'd fathered. That filled him with regret, with a _kind_ of pain, but not the physical agony he'd felt before, the agony that had been more like an addiction than anything else. This was grief, and a grief he still wasn't certain he could share. How could he tell his parents that he had two children he couldn't see, couldn't...love in the way a father should be able to love his children? How could he explain to anyone exactly what had happened on Sule Skerry?

...and as the name of the small island passed through his mind, the song that had begun this whole mess arose as well. Tim closed his eyes and thought hard about the rocky shore. He imagined the seals frolicking in the crashing waves, some sunning themselves on the rocks. Among those seals, he saw three: a female and two seal pups. He smiled a little, although it was a scene not without some pain. Softly, almost unconsciously, he started to sing...

"_I heard a mother lull her bairn,  
><em>_and aye she rocked, and aye she sang.  
><em>_She took so hard upon the verse  
><em>_that the heart within her body rang." _

"_O, cradle row, and cradle go,  
><em>_and aye sleep well, my bairn within;  
><em>_I ken not who thy father is,  
><em>_nor yet the land that he dwells in."_

"Agent McGee!"

Tim jumped and opened his eyes, the image vanishing into the ether. He looked up at the man who must be his doctor.

"You seem much improved."

"I am...thank you," Tim said.

The doctor looked at him, almost suspiciously, as if Tim had been intentionally trying to make his life difficult with what had happened over the last two weeks.

"Good. I'll just see how you're doing from a medical standpoint." He worked quickly and quietly. Tim thought it best to acquiesce to everything the doctor chose to do. After a few minutes, he sighed. "I've never felt more at sea than I did trying to treat you, Agent McGee."

"I'm sorry."

"You've fully recovered so far as I can see, but you need to rest for a few days. You were hard on your body during your...coma, and while I can't explain either the coma or the sudden recovery, I _can_ tell you that you need to give your body a chance to heal. If you do that, I don't think there will be any long-term effects from what happened here. If you push it, you'll be risking serious damage, even heart failure. Understand?"

Tim nodded.

"Good. Your friends are all worried about you. Your family is coming. You ready to see them?"

He nodded again.

"Agent McGee...you know what caused all this, don't you."

"I might."

"What?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Partly because I don't know how to put it into words...and partly because you'd never believe me."

"You're sure about that?"

"Yes."

Well, I don't have the right to force you to talk to me, but I'm serious about you taking it easy. Even if _you_ feel fine, your body isn't ready for a regular schedule."

"I _don't_ feel fine. I'm really tired...but I do want to see my friends. They've been here?"

"They had a rotating schedule to make sure that everyone could come and no one missed too much work...and it gave your parents a break as well."

Tim looked down.

"Wow."

"You ready to see them?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

The doctor left the room and Tim was alone again for a few moments.

Everyone had come. Everyone had tried to help him. No one knew why he was acting like this, but they were at least being here.

_But I can't tell them...not everything. I can tell them something about Sule Skerry..._ Tim's mind drifted off again to the island. It seemed to be a trigger for him.

The door opened and pulled him back. He looked at his parents. They were there first. He tried a smile.

"I...I'm sorry," he whispered.

Naomi crossed the room in two steps and pulled him into her arms.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry."

He could feel her heart. It was beating fast, but she seemed only relieved. She released him only to let Sam hug him next.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he said, feeling as though he needed to apologize to everyone for his behavior over the last few months, ever since...

"Don't apologize, Tim. You have nothing to apologize for."

"I made things so hard for you."

"But you're back."

"Mostly."

Sam let him go and looked at him...looked him in the eye.

"Yes...mostly. I see that now."

Naomi looked in his eyes, too...and nodded.

"This is what to expect now?"

"I think so."

"Okay. How are you feeling?"

"Tired...weak...but better."

"Good. The others are outside. They wanted to let us come in first. Are you up to seeing them?"

Tim felt wiped out, but he nodded.

"For a little while. I do want to see them."

"All right."

They both went to the door and then let the others come in. They were a large enough number that Sam and Naomi went out into the hall to accommodate them. Tim looked at everyone. No one spoke at first. Ducky fixed that.

"What did the doctor say?"

"I need to rest for a few days...but I should be fine." Tim shifted his eyes over to Gibbs and winced at the healing black eye.

"It's okay, McGee," he said.

"It's not, but thanks."

"How do you feel?" Ducky asked.

"Tired. Like I've been running a marathon nonstop for days. The doctor said you all were here...the whole time."

"Of course we were, McGee," Ziva said, almost affronted. "Did you think we would abandon you?"

"I wouldn't have blamed you if you had. I've been...hard to be around."

Abby had clearly been restraining herself, but she broke out of the group and flung her arms around Tim.

"Tim, we just want you to be happy again! Are you?"

"Not yet...but I'm better."

"What happened?"

"I can't tell you."

"McGee..." Gibbs began.

"It's because of...of what happened on Su–on the island, but..." Tim turned pleading eyes on them all over Abby's shoulder. "...please, don't make me tell you. Maybe in a while I can tell you more, but I can't...can't tell you now...and I don't think I can ever tell you all of it."

"Don't you trust us, McGee?" Tony asked.

"Yes. I do," Tim said, but he couldn't find the words to explain. "I do trust you," he said again, but he looked Tony in the eye and willed him to understand. It must have worked because Tony simply nodded silently.

"Do you still hurt?" Jimmy asked.

"Not like I was. I'm pretty sure that's over now."

"Good. Are you coming back to NCIS?"

"Jimmy!" Abby said, spinning around to confront him.

"What? Everyone wants to know."

Tim smiled. "Yeah...I am...if you actually want me there, still. I've...been gone a long time."

"Well, I think we should let Timothy rest now," Ducky announced and began shooing everyone to the door...but he didn't go out...and neither did Gibbs.

"Your parents told us," Gibbs said, as soon as the door was closed.

"You probably saw enough that you didn't need to hear any more," Tim said, looking down at his lap.

"And you still don't think you can tell us everything?"

"I don't think that's possible. You know about Eira. You know about the selkies. ...whether or not you believe it is another matter...but you can't know it all. Some things...I have to keep to myself." He lifted his head and looked at Gibbs. "Some things in life are too painful to share." He shifted his gaze to include Ducky. "Both of you should know that. If my pain is something...fantastical...that doesn't make it any easier to bear."

"How much will you tell?"

"I don't know."

Gibbs reached into his pocket and pulled out a few pieces of folded paper.

"You should tell them something about your history," he said. "If it's proof you're worried about, this will help."

Tim took the pages and unfolded them. Genealogy charts...and one of them had a familiar name on it.

"Kaira," he whispered.

"From Orkney."

"Married Thomas McGee."

"It doesn't prove that she was the daughter of a selkie, but there were some anecdotal tales that weren't easy to dismiss...and the scars she bore were well-known for some generations."

Gibbs sat down on the bed for a moment, attracting Tim's gaze once more.

"You want to keep some things to yourself, fine. We can't force you to share...but you need to give everyone something, even if it's just this. Okay?"

"Okay...but not now."

"Rest," Gibbs said. "You have time."

"Yeah...now, I do."

Ducky patted Tim's shoulder. "It's good to have you back with us, Timothy."

"Thanks, Ducky."

Tim lay back and closed his eyes...but only until they were gone. When he was alone, Tim ventured out of bed, ignoring his dizziness after lying around for so long, and made his way to a mirror. He looked at his reflection.

His eyes were green again. Mostly.

One eye had darkened. It was still green, but with more than a hint of dark gray in it.

"Mostly," he whispered.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

Over the next two weeks, Tim's outward recovery was as swift as anyone could have wished. He spent three more days in the hospital while his doctors made sure there was no permanent damage. After that, he was released. He went back to Ohio for a week to spend time with his family. Sarah came and they had some real family time...unlike all the months since he'd been back from Sule Skerry.

If the NCIS crew resented Tim's absence a bit, they tempered their feelings by acknowledging that Tim did need real quality time with his family...and he had said he'd be coming back. That gave them the patience to wait until Tim was ready to return to DC.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Are you sure about this, Tim?" Naomi asked.

Tim paused in his packing and looked around at the mess that was his room. He took a deep breath and looked at her.

"Which part?" he asked.

"Going back to work...telling your friends about what happened...there?"

"Going back to work? Absolutely," Tim said. "I want...and _need_ to go back."

"And telling them?"

Tim sat down on his bed. "I'm...sure that I need to. ...that I want to? No. I don't think they'll believe me." He paused and then asked the question he'd been afraid to ask his parents. "Do you?"

Naomi sat down beside him. "I feel like I have to...even though everything inside me says it's impossible. Yes, Tim. I believe you, but you still haven't told us everything."

Tim put his arm around her. "No, I haven't...but I can't. I hope you understand."

"I don't, but I'll accept it. Do you have a place to live yet?"

"No. I'm going to stay with Ducky and then with Gibbs for a while and look around. I think they still want to keep an eye on me anyway."

"Tim..."

"I'm not hiding myself away, Mom," Tim said with a bit of a smile. "It would be easier, but I'm not. I'm going back to my life...to get back as much of it as I can."

"There's a limit?"

"Look at my eyes, Mom," Tim said softly. "You know there's a limit."

"Yes. Yes, I do." She hugged him tightly. "...but that doesn't matter to me. All that matters is that you're back with us again. Selkie or not, you're still my son and that's what matters."

"I'm not a selkie, Mom."

"Good."

"...I'm different though...different than I was."

"Yes. I know."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The next day, Tim said his good-byes. Sam left him with a quote...as usual.

"Remember what George Bernard Shaw said, Tim. 'Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything.' The changes you've made are different from others, but everyone has to confront change."

"Thanks, Dad. You believe me."

"I dreamed of her, too, Tim. It's hard to dismiss something like that."

"Thank you."

"I love you, Tim."

"I love you, too."

And he was off.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_One week later..._

They had a little party for Tim to celebrate his real return to NCIS. It was small, only his close friends were there...and Tim was finally ready to tell them something of his story.

"What I'm about to say is going to sound crazy," Tim said by way of preamble.

"More crazy than what we've seen already?" Tony asked.

"Yes."

"Cool!" Jimmy said and then flushed when everyone stared at him. "I mean...uh, tell us, McGee. It's not going to change if you put it off anymore."

"That much is true, Timothy. Your story bears telling."

"You won't believe it," Tim warned.

"You cannot know that unless you tell us," Ziva said reasonably. "Try us first to see."

Tim nodded.

"I...I wasn't alone on Sule...on the island...but there weren't any people there."

"So...what _was_ there, Probie?" Tony asked.

"Selkies."

Abby's eyes widened and Jimmy's mouth fell open in surprise. Gibbs and Ducky, since they already knew, gave no reaction. Tony and Ziva, however, just looked confused.

"Okay...what's a selkie?" Tony asked.

"A...A creature who can change at will from a seal to a human and back to a seal again."

"A person who can change into a seal?" Tony asked, obviously incredulous.

"No," Tim said. "It is not a human being. It isn't a seal. It's a selkie. It's both...and neither at the same time. A group of them called me to the island in my dreams. The song you heard me singing, Ziva...that was the song I dreamt...and it was a song that I'd never heard before."

"But...why you, McGee?" Ziva asked. "I do not understand why this would happen to you...if it happened at all."

"It _did_ happen," Tim said firmly. "...and it happened because...because I have a selkie in my ancestry."

"What?" That exclamation came from Jimmy...and was so out-of-the-blue that everyone chuckled for a moment while he flushed with a bit of embarrassment.

Tim showed them the genealogy charts Gibbs and Ducky had found for him. He explained the story of Kaira and Thomas McGee and moved down through the generations and finally back to himself. He told them the real source of his pain-filled attacks. He spoke calmly and softly. His words were slow and deliberate. It was as if he was affirming the truthfulness of what he said by the care he took in revealing it.

When he finished Tim simply stopped talking and looked at them all. Gibbs and Ducky, again, showed no reaction. Jimmy just nodded silently. Tony, Ziva and Abby looked a bit distressed. ...but then, Abby (being Abby) jumped up and hugged Tim tightly.

"Okay. Okay, Tim. Just don't ever leave us like this again...okay?"

Tim smiled. No indication of belief or disbelief, just a fervent desire for Tim to be all right. He could deal with that.

"I'll do my best, Abbs," he said softly.

He looked at Tony and Ziva and raised his eyebrows.

"Well...that's the craziest thing I've ever heard," Tony said after a few seconds. "...and since that fits in with how crazy everything I've seen has been, I'm okay with that." He smiled.

"Thanks, Tony."

"It does seem unbelievable," Ziva said. "...but I trust you, McGee. I do not think you would lie. It is not who you are. If you say that this happened...it is good enough for me. I just want you back here again."

Abby let Tim go and he hugged Ziva briefly and allowed Tony to slap his back good-naturedly.

"Thank you," he said. "For being there for me even when I couldn't appreciate it or accept it, really. Thank you. Everyone."

There seemed to be nothing left to say after that, and so they all helped clean up and then went their separate ways.

The next day was Monday, and Tim was back at NCIS. He wasn't back to full field status yet. He had been gone long enough that he had to recertify, but he was on his way.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Three weeks later..._

Tim was still staying with Gibbs, but that wouldn't last for much longer. He'd finally found an apartment and was making the final arrangements. ...but for now...he was in the back yard.

"Boss, thanks for...taking care of Jethro all this time," Tim said as he sat on the back patio smiling and his dog's gamboling in the yard. "I didn't even really think about him at all."

"Didn't think you would. You had a lot on your mind."

"Yeah."

"You still don't think you can tell us everything?"

"No. I don't. It was hard enough to tell a piece of it to the others."

There was a long silence.

"I believe what you said happened."

Tim turned to look at him, a strange expression on his face. Gibbs couldn't figure out just what it was.

"Do you really, Boss? Do you really believe that I was called to...to that island by selkies, that the selkies were there and that I fell in love with one of them? Do you really believe that I have a selkie in my past and that longing and need for the sea that they awakened inside me is what caused my pain?"

"Yes," Gibbs said simply. He had seen and heard too much to deny Tim's story. Too much had happened that had no other explanation. All things being equal, the simplest explanation was usually the right one...no matter how strange it seemed.

Tim turned back to the yard and clasped his hands together. Gibbs waited. He figured that Tim _did _want to tell someone the whole story but that this was the pain he had said he couldn't share. It took a few minutes, but Tim did start to talk.

"I have two children somewhere out there," Tim whispered finally.

Whatever Gibbs might have expected Tim to say...that wasn't it.

"What?"

"Twins. The reason they wanted me on...on Sule...on the island. The selkie in my ancestry was killed and the direct line was lost. They wanted to reintroduce the bloodline...and I was the one who had enough of his...his DNA, his being, his...whatever...inside me to make it feasible to do so. That's why they called me there."

Tim wouldn't look at Gibbs. Instead, he stared at his hands. Gibbs waited...waited to hear the whole story.

"Eira...called me. Eira was to be the...the mother of the child that came from the bloodline. She trapped me...there. She woke up the seal inside. She caused me so much pain. ...and I fell in love with her. ...and I fathered her children. ...and I'll never see them. Or at least, it's not likely. She said I'll know if the time is right. They're selkies. Born in the sea. I saved her using power that I didn't know I had. ...and I love her. I'd do it all again in a moment...and worse..._she_ would do it all again without a thought, no matter how much pain it would cause me."

Gibbs could see Tim's jaw clench tightly as he tried to restrain his emotions. Tim swallowed hard and continued.

"...and I can't ever be with her, not really. She told me from the beginning that her first love is the sea. It is the only thing she can't live without. It would always come first. ...and my children are selkies. My children have that same love and will never want to be away from it. And I..."

"Get seasick."

"Not anymore," Tim said in a choked voice.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I don't get seasick anymore. Haven't you noticed? We went onto that boat, and I didn't have any problems."

"I guess I didn't think about it. So it's true?"

"It is." He wiped a tear away and then clasped his hands again. "I hate that I love her, but I do. So much that it hurts. I long for the...the chance to see the children who will likely never know that I'm their father." The tears were closer to the surface now. "I always wanted to...to have the stereotypical American dream: a house, a job, a family. I have a family...but I'll never see them...and not because there's no love, but because it's not possible...because I'm human, even though there is still some of the selkie inside me."

Tim sniffed once and let out a laugh.

"That's what still hurts, Boss. The loss of something I never actually had...and never could have had. ...and now can never have. How stupid is that? How pitiful is it that the one person who so desperately wanted to have a boring stereotypical happy life has a life that belongs in a tragic fantasy novel?"

"It's not stupid and it's not pitiful, Tim. It's sad."

"Yeah...sad commentary on my life."

_Thwack!_

"No," Gibbs said seriously. "It's nothing wrong with you. Everyone wants a happy life, Tim. Everyone. Happiness means different things to different people, but everyone wants to be happy. Heck, I wanted the same things you do...and I had them and lost them."

Tim didn't respond but Gibbs could tell he'd made a point. He decided to press on.

"You can grieve for losing what you wanted, for feeling as though everything you want and need is just barely out of your reach. ...but you have to move on at some point. You have to accept what you've lost and hope for something else to come along, something that can still make you happy."

"I'm not happy right now."

"I figured."

"Don't tell anyone about this, Boss. Please?"

"You can trust us, Tim."

Tim straightened and looked at him soberly, shaking his head.

"I will _never _be able to take any light comment about this. Ever. I can't tolerate any teasing about the love I lost, about my...my children. If I told the others about it, whether they believed me or not, there would be a day when they'd talk about it flippantly and I _can't_ take that. This pain goes a lot deeper than the pain I felt when I needed the sea. It's not the same kind of pain. It's worse in a way because it's a pain in my heart, not in my body, not in my mind. It's a wound in my soul, one that won't ever heal."

"I understand."

Tim nodded. "That's why I...I felt I could tell you...because you know how it feels to lose family. The others don't...not like this. I'll always feel some bit of longing for the sea. ...and I'll always regret what I lost, what I never had."

"You can do that, but you also need to hope, Tim. Hope for better things, hope for what seems impossible. You said it's not likely, but maybe it can still happen."

"I can't go back there. The pull is still too strong. Even the name of...of Sule Skerry..." His voice trailed off a bit and his eyes went distant for a moment...and then he was back. "...it pulls me there. I can't go back until I know I can leave again."

"Just try it, McGee. That's all. Don't give up."

Tim nodded and then sang softly.

"_I am a man upon the land;  
><em>_I am a selchie on the sea,  
><em>_and when I'm far frae ev'ry strand,  
><em>_my dwelling is in Sule Skerry."_

Then, he laughed a little.

"Only, it's not true. I'm a man on the land _and_ on the sea...but I'll always feel something pulling me to Sule Skerry."

Gibbs put a hand on Tim's back and left it there as the sun went down.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Although Tim never did return to the more lighthearted personality that had dominated before his time on Sule Skerry, he did regain his equilibrium and he did seem to embrace his life. The biggest change was not his personality. It was his sudden love for the sea. Rather than being pained by it, he seemed to be invigorated by it. He went sailing. He spent long hours just looking at the sea...and he never got seasick again.

There was some wistfulness about something he seemed to have lost, but mostly, he was his old self.

Mostly. The one thing that kept the "mostly" from being a problem was that everyone preferred to have Tim "mostly" back to normal to not having him around at all. ...and Tim himself seemed to feel the same way. His left eye never did regain all its green color but Abby declared that it was a good look for him.

Time passed as it always did. Things continued to change. People changed. The world changed.

...and then, something else changed...for the better.


	34. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

No one ever really talked about what Tim had told them, and he didn't seem to feel the need to bring it up at all either. It was all water under the bridge and he knew some of them had a hard time believing him...which is why he never told anyone else the whole story.

Time had brought plenty of changes to Tim's life. One change had been his continued link to Orkney. For the first year or two, he had preferred to refer to what happened there as little as possible, needing the time to figure himself out and how he would fit himself back into the human world. ...but then, he got an invitation to Andrew Tait's wedding...to take place on the site of the Odin Stone on Mainland. He could hardly say no. Then, he got word that Sigur, the old fisherman who had given him so much comfort in those first moments after his rescue, had died. It wasn't required that he be there, but Tim felt compelled to go to the funeral. After that, returning to Orkney became his vacation time every year...and he always stayed at Munros'. He would come back slightly different. People would even comment that his eyes seemed darker than usual. ...but they would always be back to their normal green and green-gray after a couple of days.

Every time he went, Gibbs would ask him if he'd seen the seals. The answer was always no. ...because Tim deliberately avoided seeking them out. The time never seemed right and he didn't even want to risk dreaming about them again.

...but that changed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Seven years later..._

Tim opened his eyes, the image still as clear as it had been in his dreams. There was no compulsion this time, just a feeling that, yes, this was the right time. He hadn't ever thought it would come. He'd given up hoping for it, no matter what Gibbs had said. ...but now...

"Hey, McGee. What's up?" Gibbs asked when Tim knocked on his door.

"I'm going to Sule Skerry."

Gibbs' eyes widened slightly, but he just stood aside and let Tim in. He didn't say anything until they were both seated with cups of coffee (of course).

"Why?"

"It's the right time."

"How do you know?"

"I had a dream."

"And?"

"And that's where the selkies are. On Sule Skerry."

Gibbs took a breath and looked at him closely.

"Okay...but you're not going alone this time."

"You can't come to Sule Skerry."

"I can come to Orkney."

"Are you sure?"

"After what happened the last time you had a dream about Sule Skerry? Yeah."

Tim smiled. "Okay."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_One week later..._

"You sure about this, Tim?" Gibbs asked.

Tim just nodded and smiled. "I'm only staying there for a few hours. Patrick said he'd take me out there and then pick me up in the evening before he heads in. He thinks I'm crazy, but he's doing it anyway."

"Be careful."

Another nod, but Gibbs could see that Tim was pretty much already gone. So he said nothing more and just let Tim get aboard the boat, watching his sure-footed stance...at home on the sea as he had never been before his time on Sule Skerry.

"Fair winds and following seas," he called.

Tim looked back once and smiled.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I hope you know what you're doing, Mr. McGee," Patrick said. "There's nothing here."

"I know. Just come back at the arranged time and I'll be ready to leave. Thank you."

"All right. Be careful coming to the shore. Those waves can be mighty strong."

"I know that much. Felt them before."

Tim got into the inflatable and headed to the island. It looked the same as it had when he had been trapped here. He figured no one would show up until Patrick was out of sight and so he walked toward the lighthouse, only waving briefly back to let Patrick know he could (should) leave.

He climbed the steps of the lighthouse to the very top and stared out at the sea all around him. He stayed there until he saw the first faint movements in the water. Then, he smiled and headed down. He was careful on the steps. He didn't want to crack his head open.

When he got to the bottom, he hurried over to the shore and waited. It was a few minutes before the seals started flopping onto the land. A couple of them made their awkward way over to where Tim stood. Tim smiled as he recognized them and then groaned when one tried to give him a fish.

"No...No, thank you. No raw fish for me."

One nuzzled at his left hand where he still wore the ring he'd bought all those years before. He smiled and knelt on the ground.

"Is she with you still?" he asked.

Then, he looked toward the shore and he saw a large seal with two smaller seals beside her just coming out of the water. He recognized her and stood up...but didn't approach.

After a few seconds, the seal took off her skin and Eira smiled at him.

"You came," she said simply.

"It was the right time."

She nodded and then looked to the smaller seals.

"Come. You know how to do it." She looked at Tim. "They are shy."

After a few minutes, there were two awkward children standing before Tim rather than two seals. They held their skins sheepishly in their hands and looked at their mother. She walked over to them and turned them toward Tim.

"I told you of him. Remember?" She looked at Tim. "He is your father."

Tim's heart clenched in his chest as the two children walked hesitantly over to him. Tim knelt on the ground.

"Hi," he said softly. He was afraid to make any move because he wasn't sure how they might take human demonstrations of affection.

The girl looked back at her mother for a moment and walked over to him and looked searchingly into his eyes. ...and Tim noticed that her eyes, while dark gray, were tinged with green. She seemed to notice his green eyes at the same time and she smiled, blinking her eyes quickly. Tim smiled in return and hugged her tightly. The boy came over and Tim saw that his eyes were also tinged with green. Both had the dark hair of their mother, but their faces were not so alien as hers. While Eira looked like a human being from a distance, close to, it was clear that she was different. Something in her eyes, in her stance, labeled her as different. These two children had more than a bit of humanity in them. Tim wondered what Erlend thought of that, but he hugged his son.

"You are not a selkie," the boy said, pulling back after a moment to examine Tim's face.

"No, I'm not," Tim agreed.

"Why?"

"Because I was born on the land, not in the sea."

"Why?" the girl asked.

"I don't know," Tim said. "No one asked me where I wanted to be born."

"So...you will not go with us?" she asked.

"I can't. I wish I could, but I have no seal skin to wear."

She looked morosely at her own skin and then held it out to him. "You may wear mine!"

Tim felt his throat tighten. "I can't. Besides, then _you_ would be left on the land and your mother would miss you."

"Will you miss me?"

"Yes. I will. I missed you from the day you were born. I will always miss you. Both of you."

"Can you stay here?" the boy asked.

"No. I tried to stay here before. I can't. This place is not meant for humans. It's meant for selkies, for seals...for birds. Not for humans."

Eira came over. "Show your father what you can do in the water," she said.

Both of them grinned and pulled on their seal skins and then flopped back into the sea. Eira took Tim's left hand and pulled him to his feet. Then, she kept hold of his hand as they walked to the shore.

Tim watched as they began splashing around, doing tricks for him as eagerly as any child might show off for a parent.

"You told them about me," Tim said.

"Yes. I said I would. I do not break promises. ...and they are not fully selkie."

"Like I'm not fully human?"

"Yes. They are...softer than most selkies. None hold it against them, but their differences are noticeable."

"Like their eyes?"

"They are merely the most obvious, not the most profound."

"Does it hurt them?" Tim asked. "Like it hurt me?"

Eira heard Tim's anxiety and she turned to him. "No. No, they feel no pain. They were...confused about who they were. That is why I told them about you so early in their lives. They know who they are and why they are. It helps them. They will become strong and confident. They will help preserve us."

The two small seals bounded back onto the shore and removed their skins.

"Did you see?" the girl asked. "Father, did you see me?"

Tim smiled, even as it tugged at his heart to hear himself addressed by that particular title.

"I did see. You're very good swimmers."

"I swam deeper than she did!" the boy announced.

"No, you did not! I was on the bottom! I was playing with the rocks on the bottom of the sea! You were stuck in the middle!" She stuck out her tongue.

"Now, now," Tim said. "You're both very good swimmers...and you'll get even better. I know it."

Both of them grinned, much more at home with showing emotion than some of their fellow selkies.

"I need to speak with your father," Eira said. "Go and play with another for a while. Then, you may come back."

Both nodded and donned their skins once again.

"Does it pain you to see them?"

"Yes," Tim said. "...but I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

"You have not moved on."

"No. I haven't."

"You must."

"I can't." Tim reached out and stroked Eira's cheek with the back of his left hand. She took hold of his hand and pulled it down.

"We can never..."

"I know."

Eira was silent for a time.

"They will always be your children. Though all help to raise them, they are your son and daughter. Always. I have told them. ...and they will not forget. They are selkies and selkies do not forget. Ever."

"I won't forget, either."

"But your memory causes you pain. Their memory gives them strength."

"I can't forget you."

"Nor I, you...but you must find a way to move on from me. I...cannot belong to you. Soon, I will be needed to further increase our numbers."

Tim winced and looked away.

"That is part of my position. Others play the same role. Our numbers have dwindled over generations and we are now taking steps to prevent that from leading to our extinction. Some will even make the journey across the ocean to join with other selkies off your coast. These things must be."

"Did you ever love me?" Tim asked.

Eira was silent.

"Please, Eira, I need to know. Even if you don't now. Did you love me before?"

"Can love cause the pain I gave to you?"

"I don't know."

"Because I would not change what I did."

"I know."

"Why must you ask this?"

"Because..." Tim laughed a little helplessly. "Because I'm a human being and I need to know if the feeling that I had was ever reciprocated...or if I was just being used."

Eira fell silent again. Then, she looked out at where her children were frolicking with two other seals.

"They will have names when they become older. Already they ask for them. I have told them that they may choose their own when the time is right. The time is nearly right. They develop much more quickly than I thought they would."

A little heartsick, Tim nodded and allowed the topic to shift. Being with Eira now was little more than a pipe dream. He knew it would never happen, but the connection he felt, the bond they had forged. It kept him bound to her, to Sule Skerry. To this world. In his more rational moments, he knew that Eira was mostly a placeholder for the world he couldn't have and his selkie nature wished for...but it didn't make it any easier to bear.

They talked only about the children for a long time and then they came back, demanding Tim's attention. He played with them for hours, stopping only to eat. Then he sat them down and told them stories. They listened with rapt attention. Stories they'd never heard before were taken in and Tim could see that they would remember them. Finally, the day was nearly over and he knew the boat would be coming back. He felt a yearning to join them, to go with them to the sea, but it was not to be. They hugged him and begged him to come, but he said no. Eira sent them back to the water where the seals and selkies were readying their departure. They went as they were bid, but not for very long.

Suddenly, the two small selkies came back on land, shedding their skin as they did so.

"Father! Father!" they called eagerly.

"What?"

They raced over.

"Hold out your hands!"

Tim did as they asked and each one put a flat, green shell in his hand.

"So you do not forget us! Selkies do not forget, but humans do."

Tim couldn't keep the tears from blurring his vision. He knelt on the ground and hugged them close.

"I will _never_..._ever_ forget you. I am partly a selkie. I will not forget. More importantly, I'm your father. Fathers don't forget their children. I will think of you every time I see these shells."

"A boat!" one called.

The two children started and hurried back to the sea, obviously a trained response to the call of human presence.

"We must go!" he called again.

Eira nodded and took Tim's hands. She looked him in the eye for such a long time. Then, she sang softly.

"_Alas, alas this woeful fate  
><em>_This weary fate that's been laid for me.'  
><em>_And once or twice she sobbed and sighed,  
><em>_An' her tender heart did brak' in three._"

She lifted Tim's left hand. Carefully, she took hold of the ring and slid it off his finger. She then lifted Tim's right hand and put the ring on his right ring finger. Then, intertwining her fingers with his, she leaned close and kissed him gently on the cheek. ...and finally, she said the words.

"It was love."

Then, she pulled away from him and walked back to the sea, putting on her skin. She paused once and Tim could have sworn that he saw a tear fall from her eye. Then, the selkie plunged into the sea, leaving Tim alone on the island...but with a far different feeling than that which he'd had the last time he'd been left alone.

He stared after the selkies and seals until they were gone from view. Then, he walked back to where he'd secured the small raft, slipping the two shells into his jacket pocket for safe keeping. He waited until Patrick came close to and then he got into the inflatable and headed back to the boat.

It wasn't Patrick who helped him on board. Instead, it was a dark-haired woman who stood only an inch below Tim's height. She had bright blue eyes and an almost-wild countenance.

"Welcome aboard!" she said jovially, lacking the Orcadian accent.

"This be my...niece...to keep it simple," Patrick shouted from the back. "She was trying to find a new direction in her life and I offered to let her help me for the summer!"

"I'm..."

"Tim McGee, the man with the distant eyes and the strange manners," she finished for him.

"Really? That's what people say about me?"

"In hushed voices when they don't think anyone is listening," she said, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

"What do they say about _you_?" Tim asked, almost surprised at how easily he'd been drawn into flirting with her.

"Ah, I don't think I want to repeat such tales. You'll have to find out on your own."

"How about your name?"

"I guess I can tell you that. It's Kilda, my parents not thinking about the fact that they were essentially dooming me to have a connection to Scotland. How long are you staying here?"

"A few more days."

"Where are you from?"

"DC."

"Shucks. I'm from the West. Northern California."

Tim smiled.

"If you two are finished, perhaps we could be getting on our way back! I don't want to be piloting this tub in the dark if I can help it!"

Kilda laughed and set about helping get the boat on its way back to port. Tim helped where he could, but mostly had to sit and enjoy the ride. ...and the view. He talked with Kilda all the way back.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

He was tired when he returned, but he smiled when he saw Andrew Tait standing on the pier. With a backwards glance at Kilda who was busy securing the ship for the night, he climbed ashore and made his way to his friend.

"Andrew Tait," he said.

Andrew grinned. "You're looking much better than you were."

"I feel better...I don't know why."

"I do," Andrew said and pointed to Tim's hand. "You've let her go."

Tim lifted his right hand and looked at the ring. "She did that, not me."

"You let her. That means you let her break the bond, break an unspoken oath."

"Like the Odin Stone?"

"Only in the sea."

"I don't think I'm really free of her."

"Are we ever really free of the past? I don't think so...but you're not looking at it now. You're remembering it. That's important."

Tim smiled. He had always enjoyed Andrew's moments of deep insight.

"Rebecca says that you're still to blame, but she won't hold it against you once the baby is born."

Tim laughed. "Okay. Good. I want to know how it all goes."

Andrew nodded and then sobered. "Yours?"

Tim's smile became a little sad. "All I could have wished for."

Andrew put a comforting hand on Tim's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"At least I know they're safe...and they know who I am. That's something."

Andrew nodded and then headed off the pier in his peculiar way. Not even marriage to the girl of his dreams had managed to anchor him completely to the waking world. He would always be half in another place. ...as Tim himself was to some degree.

Tim went back to Munros'. Gibbs gave him space and Tim went straight to bed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_The next morning..._

"Well?"

"I saw them," Tim said. "They're beautiful, Boss. Any man would be proud to be their father. I wish I could be."

Gibbs nodded. "You are."

"Not like I want to be."

"But you still are. Eira?"

Tim held up his right hand. Gibbs said nothing, but he obviously made the connection.

"For the best?" he asked.

"Maybe."

Kilda came into the breakfast room and grinned at Tim with genuine pleasure at seeing him again.

"Maybe it's finally time to move on."

FINIS!


End file.
